Reflections on Paleontology

As I prepare for the first of two field excursions this summer, I reflect upon what it is to be a paleontologist.

Truly, there are days when I wonder why I do this. Now that I’m married and a parent, the whole leaving-for-a-month thing no longer has the same charm. And on the eve of my first departure to the Canadian High Arctic, I find myself wracked with anxiety. I’m trying to figure out whence it stems.

Being a paleontologist is a delight, most of the time. With younger kids, it’s especially fun to introduce myself, since they generally actually know what a paleontologist is. But in all cases, once we’ve established what I do, the conversation is enjoyable.

Of course, one of the first things I get asked is about the ‘coolest’ thing I ever found. Uh, yeah. I feel like I got nothing. I mean, I named a new species once. A multituberculate mammal, based upon one and a half teeth. Then I have to explain what a multituberculate is and how one can name a new species using only one tooth.

Ooh, wait. There was that turtle skull I found once. Hmm. No idea what species it was. Kinda botched prepping it myself. Not so cool.

Really, I can’t think of anything ‘cool’ that I’ve ever found. Maybe it’s just a matter of perspective.

Then I’m asked where I’ve gone to do paleontology. Well, I have gone some cool places. Bolivia has been fun. Uruguay. Wyoming, a lot. And now the High Arctic.

I hope I find something cool in the Arctic.

In the meantime, I’m still anxious. I’ll miss my son and my husband, and the creature comforts of home. Of course, I won’t miss my office and that darn mass spectrometer.

I think the anxiety stems from my usual wound-uppedness about traveling, and my general worries about my son, who is on the Autism spectrum. There will be essentially no way for me to know what is happening back home. I’ll probably have one of those horrible nightmares early on about something terrible happening to the boy. It’ll have me in knots.

It’s moments like this that I start to seriously reconsider the necessity of fieldwork. But I do it anyway because I know that once I’m on the ground, I’ll enjoy myself. I find it rejuvenating. And really, what kind of idiot would I be to turn down a chance to go to the Arctic? I’ll be all right once I’m there.

In the meantime, I think I might just explode!

Sigh.

I hope I find something cool in the Arctic. That’d be nice.