Location Taken: Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada
Time Taken: July 2012
There’s something oddly compelling about bones. They both are what they are and are what they were, if that makes sense.
Peer long enough at any bone and you start to wonder what creature created it, what they looked like, how they lived. A bone is a connection to the past, and yet, on its own, it’s not that special. Without knowledge of what it is, what it represents, it’s only an oddly shaped whitish stone.
Not that bones are stone, mind you. They’re still created by life, via carefully arranged molecules of calcium phosphate and many others, all shaped to perform a function. And yet, bones can become stone. One of the most common stones, limestone, is made up of a plethora of tiny shells and bones and all the hard debris of undersea life, crushed and compacted into a single mass. And yet, even in limestone, subjected to large amounts of pressure and time, some shells survive, showing us a hint of what came before.
This bone, or rather, this set of bones, won’t become limestone. It probably won’t even fossilize. Most bones don’t, after all, and this one is far from the conditions required for either fate. But it still holds a future, to show and educate and spark the joy that is letting what you know about an object make it more special.
The creature that formed these bones was a White-beaked Dolphin, a common sight in the north Atlantic ocean. Well, as common as any species that fills its sort of niche is, which is to say a special treat to see, but not an unexpected one.
The locals call this species “Squid Hounds”, though really they call many species that. Squids gather around the area, and many predatory fish, including this dolphin, chase after them, darting through the water like a hound darting through trees after a rabbit. It has a certain poetic flair to it, but that’s common of Newfoundland dialect, born of a hard life rich with stories and pride in the land and sea.
