Fossil Road
In the time they call the Paleozoic, there was only one land, one continent–Pangea. It was surrounded by water, and in that water, the beginnings of life, but the land itself was barren. At some point around 300 million years ago a piece of continental shelf broke off of what would be South America and slammed into the future North America. The collision caused the surface of the land to bend and buckle, thrusting up mountains that spanned from what is now Arizona in the West to the Applacians in the East. In height and majesty they would have rivaled the modern Rockies.
Epochs passed; the continents drifted apart and the mountains eroded. Plant life found its way to land first and then some ancient fish crawled out of the waves and fauna joined the flora. The mountains continued to erode. Mass extinctions favored some species and demolished others. The mountains eroded. Dinosaurs had their day, but no trace of them can be found in those mountains. You must look at newer mountains if you want to find the bones of extinct beasts or the impressions of antique plants. There are none in the Ouachitas, which continued to erode. This is where I walk.
The Ouachitas now are the only remnants of the great chain. They run from the Southeast corner of Oklahoma towards the middle of Arkansas, perhaps a hundred miles. But they are still beautiful. They are covered with forest, a mix of pines and hardwoods. A variety of colorful flowers bloom along the roadsides. Grapevines and poison ivy grow in the forest. There are more deer here than people, and there are coyotes, and bears, and raccoons. In the day, butterflies and dragon flies flit across the sky and in the evenings lightning bugs blink under the canopy. Birds are plentiful and the grating call of the crow, the trills of the summer tanager, and the who-whoing of the owl fill the air.
But the rocks are dead. There is no organic treasure hidden inside them. Instead there are huge sheets of dark gray slate arranged at odd angles to the earth. They break off into smaller chunks, flat, and dull. There is bland, ordinary limestone left over from an ancient lifeless sea. There are masses of quartz; in Arkansas it has formed into crystals, but in Oklahoma it is more commonly manifested as stones and even boulders, some as large as a small car.
Imagine my surprise, then, when one day, walking as I do, I encountered a shell, perfect, black, and made of stone. The cheap pavement on the road I often travel had become so eroded that the county brought in a load of gravel to cover it. I tried to pry the shell out of the road, but could not do it with just my hands. By the next day someone with better tools than I had pried it out.
I began paying attention to that gravel as I walked. I’ve seen lots of ivory shapes that might be scallops or cockles on the road as well as some black amalgamates that contain small white shells and the imprints of some organic worm-like creature. I know the gravel is not from the Ouachitas, but may have come from the south end of the county which is much newer geologically. It is a joyous addition to my walks to look for another perfect fossil shell.
American Mum's Stories 