Chapter I
Extinction Becomes a Fact
In 1796 a young anatomist at the Paris museum gave a lecture on elephants. Georges Cuvier compared the jaws and teeth of the Indian and African species — different enough, he argued, to be distinct — and then set beside them the mammoth skulls dug from the Siberian permafrost and the enormous molars sent from a salt lick in Ohio. Neither matched either living elephant. Animals of that size could not be overlooked in some unexplored country. They were gone.
This was not a small claim. It cut against the idea of a complete and permanent chain of being, and it meant the Earth had a history in which whole populations of creatures ended. Cuvier spent the next sixteen years proving it over and over, species by species, in the Recherches sur les ossemens fossiles. He also noticed that the faunas in the Paris basin changed abruptly between strata, and concluded that the history was punctuated by catastrophes — a view his successors rejected and the evidence later partly restored.
The supply of fossils came largely from people outside the lecture halls. Mary Anning sold specimens from the Jurassic cliffs at Lyme Regis to support her family, and in the process produced the first described ichthyosaur, the first complete plesiosaur and the first British pterosaur. She worked out that the coprolites in the blue lias were fossil faeces, and could therefore say what the animals had eaten. Her finds were named and published by Fellows of a society that would not admit her.
Chapter II
Reading Time from Rock
William Smith surveyed canals, which meant walking a great many fresh cuttings. He noticed that each bed carried a distinctive set of shells, and — the crucial part — that the beds always appeared in the same order, whether they were thick or thin, chalk or clay, in Somerset or in Yorkshire. Fossils were therefore a label for position in time. A stratum could be identified anywhere in the country by what was in it, and strata on different continents could be matched.
Faunal succession gives order but no duration. Smith could say that the lias is older than the chalk; he could not say by how much, and estimates of the age of the Earth through the nineteenth century ranged over two orders of magnitude. The duration came from physics. Once radioactive decay was understood, minerals in volcanic ash beds could be dated absolutely, and the relative column became a calendar — a joining of two sciences described under radiometric dating. The Cretaceous–Palaeogene boundary is now placed at 66.0 million years ago with an uncertainty of a few tens of thousands of years, which is precise enough to argue about what happened first.
Chapter III
Monsters, Museums and the Cambrian
In 1842 Richard Owen noticed that three poorly known British fossil reptiles shared a fused sacrum and limbs held beneath the body rather than sprawled, and gave the group a name: Dinosauria. The name did more work than the anatomy. Within twelve years full-sized concrete reconstructions stood in the grounds at Crystal Palace, and palaeontology acquired a public that no other science had.
The deeper surprise came later and higher up. In 1909 Charles Walcott found a Cambrian shale on a ridge in British Columbia in which soft parts were preserved as carbon films — guts, eyes, gills, whole animals that had no hard tissue to leave behind. He placed the fossils in known groups. Sixty years on, Harry Whittington and his students took the specimens apart again and found creatures that resisted placement: Opabinia with five eyes and a grasping proboscis, Anomalocaris, Hallucigenia. Stephen Jay Gould made the case in Wonderful Life that the Cambrian had run more experiments in body plan than have existed since, and that the survivors were chosen by luck as much as by fitness. Simon Conway Morris, who had done much of the redescription, argued the opposite: that the oddities are early branches of lineages that still exist, and that convergence makes life's outcomes largely predictable. The disagreement is live and is as much about how to measure difference as about the animals.
Chapter IV
A Closer Look: Weighing an Asteroid from a Centimetre of Clay
At Gubbio in Italy the Cretaceous limestones end, a centimetre of clay intervenes, and the Palaeogene limestones begin. Walter Alvarez wanted to know how long the clay took to accumulate, and his father Luis Alvarez suggested a clock: iridium. It is almost absent from the Earth's crust, which was stripped of siderophile elements when the core formed, but it is present in meteorites at around 500 parts per billion, and it rains down steadily as micrometeorite dust. A slowly deposited clay should hold more of it than a fast one.
The measurement, by Frank Asaro and Helen Michel, found about 9 parts per billion against a background near 0.3 — thirty times too much, and far more than slow deposition could explain. The same spike appeared at Stevns Klint in Denmark and in New Zealand. Suppose instead that it arrived all at once, as a vaporised impactor spread through the atmosphere and settled worldwide. How big was it?
Take the layer as 1 cm thick with a density of about 2 g/cm³, so it holds 2 grams of material per square centimetre of ground. At 9 parts per billion, each square centimetre carries
The Earth's surface is with cm, or cm². The total excess iridium is therefore
about ninety thousand tonnes of one of the rarest metals on Earth, deposited in a single layer. If it came from a chondritic body containing 500 ppb iridium, that body massed
At a density of 2.2 g/cm³ this is a volume of cm³, and a sphere of that volume has diameter
The Alvarez paper arrived at about 10 km, allowing for iridium spread beyond the boundary clay itself and for material lost to space. Chicxulub, the 180-km crater found under the Yucatán in 1991, implies the same scale. Either way the kinetic energy is the part that matters. At a typical encounter speed of 20 km/s, a body of kg carries
which is about nine million megatons of TNT, some six hundred million times the Hiroshima bomb, delivered in seconds. The argument is worth following because of what it is made of: a thickness, a density, a concentration and a sphere. No fossils are involved at all. A quantity measured in parts per billion in one Italian roadcut, multiplied by the area of a planet, weighs an object that no one saw.
Chapter V
What the Record Can and Cannot Say
Every fossil is a survivor of a filter. An animal must die in the right place, be buried fast, escape dissolution and compaction, sit through tens of millions of years of burial, and then be exhumed where somebody is looking. Soft-bodied life passes this filter almost never, which is why the Burgess Shale and a handful of other deposits carry so much of the weight. Counts of species through time partly track the amount of rock of each age that happens to be exposed, and the last fossil of a declining species always predates its real end, so a sudden extinction is recorded as a gradual one.
Modelling that filter well enough to invert it is the central methodological problem of the subject, and it is why macroevolution — the study of what the record means over hundreds of millions of years — had to wait for databases and statistics. The other route past the filter is to stop reading morphology and start reading molecules, which is where phylogenetics comes in: living organisms carry information about their dead ancestors, and a tree built from them can be calibrated against the few dates that stone supplies.