Oklahoma's number one blog for natural and cultural history.
Some 455 million years ago, long before the wind came sweeping down the plains, Oklahoma was nothing more than a fragment of the ocean floor. A diverse array of marine life inhabited the waters above the future United States and left behind a rich prehistoric past. How do invertebrate paleontolgoists know all of this? Though these early sooners may be long gone, their skeletons remain.
Trilobites embedded in limestone
This specimen, from the invertebrate paleontology department, is one of several slabs of limestone crowded with complete skeletons of the trilobite Homotelus. Trilobites are extinct marine arthropods that disappeared roughly 250 million years ago. In case you need a refresher, arthropods are a classification of animals with segmented bodies and external skeletons, like scorpions, crabs and butterflies.
The Asian forest scorpion is an example of an arthropod.
The trilobite specimen shown above is important to scientists because it provides a snapshot into the behavior of these arthropods. Complete skeletons of trilobites are rare, as they would normally fall apart quickly after death. It is highly unusual to find hundreds of skeletons clustered together this way, as a result. Invertebrate paleontolgoists believe that the trilobites may have gathered in large numbers to spawn, much like modern horseshoe crabs along the east coast of the United States.
It’s also important to note that geography played a prominant role in the recovery of this specimen. Geological evidence indicates that the embedded trilobites were buried very quickly by mud, possibly by a storm close to shore that would have stirred up the sea floor and carried mud-laden waters offshore. After the storm waned, this mud was likely dumped on the sea bottom, burying the trilobites. Nearly 455 million years later, scientists discovered their skeletons, still intact, buried in the Ordovician rocks of the Criner Hills in southern Oklahoma.
The Criner Hills are in Carter County, Okla.
Thanks to this discovery, invertebrate paleontologists now have a unique glimpse into the life of extinct animals. They also know that the reproductive behavior of trilobites resembles modern marine arthropods. Of course, you don’t have to look 455 millions years into the past to see Oklahoma’s astounding contributions to history. In fact, next week we’ll be looking at a more recent group of Oklahomans. Can you guess who?
This week we’re leaving behind elegant mosaics and million-year-old fossils as we venture into the creepy, crawly world of invertebrates. Even if insects send a shiver up your spine, keep reading! Today’s post covers a unique blend of entymology and invertebrate history that may just knock your socks off. Let’s get started, shall we?
One of the most important and interesting specimens in the recent invertebrates department is the preserved holotype specimen of the beetle Huleechius marroni, which was described by former curator Harley Brown in 1981. Let’s pause here and review some vocabulary. A holotype is an extremely valuable specimen because it is the official specimen linked to the first named individual of the species. For example, say someone stumbles upon a wolf for the very first time, and a team of scientists decide to call it Canis lupus. That very dog is now a holotype for the entire species, meaning it is the specimen for which all wolves are named. That’s the Huleechius marroni beetle.
This beetle is part of the group of beetles known as the Elmidae, or “riffle beetles”, a group that is found throughout the world in freshwater streams. The larvae of these beetles are often found feeding on submerged wood, and the adults can swim on the surface and under the water. Impressive, right? This specimen was collected and described from San Carlos River, east of San Carlos, Arizona. Actually, in Arizona, there is an endangered subspecies of this beetle known as the Marron’s San Carlos riffle beetle (Huleechius marroni carolus.) This subspecies can only be found in one very specific location in Arizona, which makes it an exceptionally rare species.
Hopefully you’ve learned a thing or two from today’s post, and we know you’re just dying to impress your friends with this newfound wisdom. Of course, there’s plenty more where that came from! For fun facts about the supercontinent Pangea, check out last week’s post. Then be sure to mark your calendars for next week’s ITTB! We’re traveling deep into the heart of Mexican history, and we’re bringing you along for the ride.
To many, science may seem to be a strictly objective discipline, black-and-white and void of emotion. Sure, it takes passion, but science is seldom regarded as possessing sentimentality. However, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Through its ability to reveal passions and spark inspiration, science has proven its ability to resonate on a most intimate level, as illustrated by Vicki Jackson and 150 drawers of seashells.
It all began on Sunday, July 28, 2013, when Jackson visited the Sam Noble Museum, carrying with her some 2,700 carefully boxed seashells. The collection was not hers, but her late father’s. Although Jackson’s generous donation of the collection to the museum’s recent invertebrates department is in and of itself a marvelous tale, it is the story behind the shells that makes this gift extraordinary.
Jackson believes that her father, Perry Yates Jackson Jr., began collecting shells after attending the Naval Academy many years ago. Since then, his compilation has expanded to include shells from both familiar and exotic locals: Hawaii, Florida, Virginia, California, Texas, Haiti, New Guinea, The West Indies and Seychelles, among others. The global nature of the collection stems largely from Perry Jackson Jr.’s service with the United States Navy.
“The Navy allowed him to go all over the place, and wherever they docked, if he had the time, he would shell hunt. It was almost a form of meditation,” Jackson explained.
Perry Jackson Jr. was not only an avid collector, but also a dedicated organizer. Until his passing in 1998, he maintained a meticulous catalogue of each and every item he recovered. According to Katrina Menard, curator of the Sam Noble Museum’s recent invertebrates collection, this degree of care is almost as rare as the shells themselves.
Greetings! I apologize for being so long in updating, but we were moving some cyber-things around to different servers here in museum cyberspace before the holiday break, and there were a few glitches, one of which involved access to our blog. But the new year brings fresh opportunities!