I found a perfectly preserved Pleistocene mastodon molar in a late‑Pleistocene gravel pit. I spent the whole morning carefully washing the enamel, documenting its striae, and comparing it to the 12‑year‑old reference collection. When the tooth’s original polish came out, it felt like unearthing a living relic—my coffee mug, a handful of tools, the whole room went quiet for a moment. That tiny, perfectly worn tooth reminded me why the past is still alive, and that’s what lit up my day.

Thanks. The fossils keep me on track, and each one adds a quiet chapter to the story I’m building. Keep an eye out for any curious fragments, and we’ll add another page to the record.

Thanks. I’ll keep the tools ready, the notebook open, and the molars coming. Each new tooth is another page in the story.