Dundee Falls: A beautiful waterfall in northeastern Ohio

June 4th, 2019

Dundee, Ohio — One of the joys of summer for a geologist is the time to take short trips in the neighborhood to explore nature. This afternoon Greg Wiles, Nick Wiesenberg, Greg’s adventurous dog Arrow, and I drove about 45 minutes into Tuscarawas County to visit Dundee Falls, which is in the Beach City Wildlife Area. It was a gorgeous day. The falls are formed by a creek rushing into a gorge walled by the Dundee Sandstone (= Massillon Sandstone), part of the Pottsville Series of Upper Carboniferous age. I hadn’t heard of this place until Alexis Lanier (’20) recommended it.
The vertical sandstone walls are impressive. This particular face is used by rock climbers. I learned on this visit that the climbers occasionally scrub the cliff face with wire brushes to remove slippery moss and the inevitable graffiti.

The sandstone shows several sedimentary structures, including dramatic cross-bedding. These are like lateral accretion deposits from meandering streams in a delta complex.

The sandstone has layers of iron oxide concretions reminiscent of the Moqui Marbles we saw in the Navajo Sandstone on our Utah Expedition this spring.

Nick”s right hand is on a quartz-pebble conglomerate within the sandstone. These core beds are common throughout the Pottsville Series. They likely represent braided stream deposits and classic molasse. The reddish color is what remains of spray-painted graffiti.

The unscrubbed, unpainted walls host a wonderful moss-fern flora.

One of the goals of this hike was to determine the ages of the oldest trees. Nick and Greg (and Arrow) are here scoping out the woods for the largest oak trees.

Greg and Nick worked hard inserting their coring devices. The process makes some incredible squawking noises as the bit is screwed into the tight wood. I also learned that taking the corer out of the tree can be much harder than putting it in! So far the dendrochronology team found trees only about 200 years old, which is too young to interest them.

Arrow the Dog was a great companion as always! He seems to have a very good time on these outings.

Update from Dr. Wiles, ace dendrochronologist: “Nick worked up the five cores we took and below is the Dundee Ring Width Series – inner ring 1823, second growth. Looks like a slow release up until 1900 and then a big release – selective logging and the big logging at 1900? Maybe the quarry was set up ~1900.”


Lots of Rain v. Many Rainy Days

May 16th, 2019

The other day while on the phone with my sister, she complained about how bad the weather was. “It’s rained like every day since April 1st” was the statement. That was an exaggeration, so she then modified that statement to say it’s been really wet this spring, and she’s had few opportunities to let the boys play outside in the sun. So then I wondered… is she right? Or is she just participating in a favorite past time of complaining about the weather? She lives north of Boston, so I decided to take a look at the data from a long-running station at Lowell, Massachusetts.

Distribution of total precipitation between April 1 and May 10 in Lowell, Massachusetts

It’s true that 2019 has had a wet spring. Of the 127 years of data at Lowell, 9 years had enough missing data I had to toss them.  That leaves 118 years.  Of those, 2019 has seen the 12th most precipitation between April 1 and May 10 (7.73 inches; the 91st percentile). However, my sister has only lived near Lowell for about 15 years, and in those 15 years, 2019 ranks 5th… so above average, but nothing special.  In fact, neither of her sons has experienced fewer than 6 inches of rain from April 1 through May 10… all they know is wet springs!

Before I called her back to tell her she’s exaggerating, I decided to dig a little deeper.  You see, my sister didn’t actually say there’s been a lot of rain; she said there had been many rainy days. That’s different. If we track the percentage of days on which rain (sometimes with snow) fell in Lowell since April 1, we find that my sister is on to something.  It has rained 25 days — about 62% of the days since April 1 — and that is a record.  Yup, in 118 years Lowell has never had so many rainy days between April 1 and May 10.  My sister’s smart, but I didn’t expect she’d be that good.

Distribution of the days between April 1 and May 10 with precipitation greater than 0.01 inches in Lowell, Massachusetts

Anyway, the lesson here is that my sister, like many people, would rather have a lot of rain on a few days than a little rain on many days. It’s not the rain so much as lack of sun that gets to people. This is partly why a city like Seattle (36 inches/year) is famous for being rainy even though cities like Cleveland (39 inches/year), Boston (44 inches/year), and New York City (50 inches/year) all receive more precipitation.  It’s not that Seattle gets a lot of rain; it’s that it’s often raining. Seattle has 152 days with precipitation a year, but Boston only has 126, and New York has only 122. Think about that — NYC gets 38% more precipitation but 30 extra days without any precipitation!

Total annual precipitation and number of days with greater than 0.01 inches water equivalent of precipitation in four US cities

Cleveland, for the record, has 154 days with precipitation a year on average thanks to it frequent lake effect snow. All data are from NOAA’s Climate Data Online.

Birthplace of the Sandusky River

April 6th, 2019

I’ve long appreciated river confluences where two flows join to make a third, “new” river. The most impressive confluence I’ve visited is where the Bhagirathi and Alaknanda Rivers meet to produce the iconic Ganges at Devprayag, India. (The second image in the Wikipedia article is mine.) Of course, such places are only changes in our human geographical classifications. It is a subjective decision to determine which confluence merits naming a new river or stream, essentially marking its “birthplace”.

Today Nick Wiesenberg, his father David, and I had a delightful hike through Lowe-Volk Park in Crawford County, Ohio — about an hour’s drive west of Wooster. Within this small park Paramour Creek and the smaller Allen Run join to make the Sandusky River, as shown above. The Sandusky River then flows about 130 miles north into Lake Erie. The Sandusky has played a critical role in 18th and early 19th century Ohio history, so it was a privilege to visit its origin. The weather was perfect for a short hike in the woods.

Lowe-Volk Park was established around this confluence and three 19th century quarries in the Berea Sandstone, a massive Upper Devonian unit used throughout northeastern Ohio as a building stone. The quarries are now eroded walls of bedrock slowly being covered by vegetation.

As always on trips like this, Nick and David teach me many new things. For example, I knew honeylocust trees are festooned with nasty, long thorns, as you can see on this trunk. What I didn’t know was that these defensive structures evolved in response to animals no longer around — mastodons!The thorns on the honeylocust trunks go as high as a mastodon could reach, and no more. This was apparently part of a coevolutionary relationship in which the trees had no interest in being pushed over by these pachyderms for their delicious seedpods while they were still ripening on their branches. After the seedpods matured and fell to the ground it was to the benefit of the trees for the mastodons to eat them and pass the seeds through their guts for planting elsewhere, hence their sweetness. Now the thorns mount a defense against lumbering ghosts.

Speaking of ghosts, this area was a bloody battleground numerous times, most notably in 1782 at the end of the Revolutionary War. The painting above hangs in the park visitor center. It shows Colonel William Crawford leading an American military expedition against Indian tribes living along the Sandusky River. The Indians, and their British allies, were well informed about this attempted surprise attack and beat it back decisively, giving the name to the fight “The Battle of Sandusky” or “Crawford’s Defeat”. Crawford himself was captured very near the present park. He had a gruesome end in captivity, which was a response to previous atrocities on the part of earlier American raiders who did not, ironically, include poor Colonel Crawford.

Wooster Records its Third Wettest Year on Record

October 4th, 2018

If you live in Ohio and have felt wet and miserable the past year, you now have vindication. Based on the long-term record from the OARDC weather station, Wooster has just completed it’s third wettest year on record (i.e., since continuous record-keeping began at the OARDC in 1900).  I know, it’s the first week of October, but in the hydrology world, the “water year” typically begins on Oct 1.  This makes sense if you think about agriculture — water falling in Oct-Dec of 2018 isn’t all that helpful for most crops growing in 2018, but it can replenish surface reservoirs and/or  groundwater for 2019.  Therefore, the 2018 water year just ended Sunday.

Figure 1: Annual precipitation at the OARDC station in Wooster, Ohio by water year beginning Oct 1, scaled to a 365-day year. The record extends 118 years: 1901-2018. Linear (red) and cubic (green) fits to the dataset are also included. 

The total precipitation in 2018 was 50.17 in., which fell about an inch short of the record, set in 2004 (51.18 in.).  The only other year with over 50 in. was 1996 (50.81 in.). Both 2004 and 1996 were leap years, but even if you adjust precipitation to 365 days per year, 2018 still ranks third. Another interesting thing to note is that the annual precipitation in Wooster has been increasing over the past 118 years.   On average, the change is about 0.07 in./year. That might not sound like a lot, but over 118 years, it adds up.  In the past decade (2009-2018), Wooster has received 102.6 in. more precipitation than the period 1901-1910. In other words, we’re getting about 32% more precipitation in the 2010s than we did in the 1900s.  A linear trend is pretty good for explaining this long-term change, but you might notice that most of the change in annual precipitation takes place in the periods 1900 to 1925 and 1980 to today.  The green curve is a little better at fitting the data and better captures the mid-century stability and the rapid increase in wetness over the past few decades.

Figure 2: Histogram of Aug-Sep precipitation in Wooster with the extreme years of 2017 and 2018 indicated.

One more thing that’s interesting to note is just how different late summer was in Wooster this year compared to last.  The Aug-Sep period of 2017 was one of the driest on record in Wooster (even though the year overall was unexceptional). Only 2.42 in. fell in Wooster then. On the other hand, 2018 was one of the wettest years on record, with 11.36 in. falling. Only 3% of all Aug-Sep periods were drier than 2017, and only 4% were wetter than 2018. What a difference a year makes!

Concluding 2018 summer research in the Tree Ring Lab

July 27th, 2018

Summer 2018 research in the Tree Ring Lab has come to a close. The group of five students worked on a variety of projects, learning about the climate and history of Ohio and Alaska, and the application of different dendrochronological techniques and statistical analyses. They also gained experience effectively conveying their research to others and writing official reports of their findings.

The summer research team on their last day working together (Left to right: Greg Wiles, Nick Wiesenberg, Victoria Race ’19, Juwan Shabazz ’19, Kendra Devereux ’21, Josh Charlton ’19, and Alexis Lanier ’20).

AMRE students with a sampled oak tree at Brown’s Lake Bog in Wooster, Ohio (Alexis Lanier ’20, Juwan Shabazz ’19, and Kendra Devereux ’21).

The AMRE team accomplished a lot during the eight weeks they were here on campus. Their research started with the principles of dendrochronology, when they learned how to count individual tree rings and measure their widths under the microscopes. From here, the team learned how to run this data in different programs like COFECHA and ARSTAN. This process allowed them to date many historical structures across Northeast Ohio such as Gingery Barn and Miller House and Barn. You can find a full list on the TRL’s reports page.

AMRE students with Nick Wiesenberg collecting samples from historical structures at Sonnenberg Village in Kidron, Ohio.

Alexis and Kendra visiting one of the historical structures at Sonnenberg Village.

The AMRE students also learned how to take these chronologies and make hypotheses regarding past climate by uploading the data to Climate Explorer and running various correlations with other datasets.

We were fortunate enough to go out in the field and personally collect most of the data that we worked with this summer. These eventful trips included a lot of tree coring and required lots of bug spray. Some of the AMRE group’s favorites trips included Stebbin’s Gulch and Brown’s Lake Bog.

Stebbin’s Gulch at the Holden Arboretum (Left to right: Josh Charlton ’19, Juwan Shabazz ’19, Alexis Lanier ’20, Kendra Devereux ’21, and Dr. Wiles).

Juwan with the machete, ready to clear a path for the rest of the team at Brown’s Lake Bog.

Lining up to cross the moat at Brown’s Lake Bog after a weekend of strong thunderstorms.

Kendra Devereux ’21 with the sample bag at Barnes Preserve in Wayne County.

Josh Charlton ’19 coring a tree at Stebbin’s Gulch in the Holden Arboretum.

The other two summer researchers working in the Tree Ring Lab this summer, seniors Victoria Race and Josh Charlton, have been working with tree ring data collected from Alaska. Their work focuses on the modeling of Columbia Glacier located in Prince William Sound, Alaska. They are currently working on an abstract to submit to the upcoming GSA conference this fall. Stay tuned for more information regarding their project!

AMRE students with Victoria Race ’19 and Arrow at Brown’s Lake Bog.

Special thanks to the National Science Foundation, the Sherman Fairchild Foundation and the AMRE program for helping to make this research possible. Enjoy the rest of your summer!

A geological and archaeological hike in northeastern Ohio on the last day of winter

March 19th, 2018

It was a beautiful latest-winter day in Wooster. Nick Wiesenberg had the great idea of taking an afternoon to hike through Pee Wee Hollow, a wooded area of ravines, streams and rocky exposures a few miles northwest of Wooster near the village of Congress. Greg Wiles, his faithful dog Arrow, and I went along. We had an excellent time with no agenda but to explore. Above is Dr. Wiles standing at an outcrop of Lower Carboniferous sandstones, shales and conglomerates making up the Logan Formation. The rocks are similar to those exposed in Spangler Park.

Pee Wee Hollow has three small Native American mounds on an upper plateau. Nick and Arrow are standing on one above. They were excavated in the 1950s, and possibly pillaged long before that. Dr. Nick Kardulias, Dr. Wiles and several others wrote a paper on these mounds. I can quote the abstract entirely: “While a great deal is known about the many earthworks of central and southern Ohio, there is a gap in our data about such features in the northern part of the state. The present report is an effort to bring work on one such site in Wayne County into the literature. The Pee Wee Hollow Mound group consists of three small circular earthen structures and a possible fortification trench on a high bluff overlooking the main stream that drains the county. Systematic excavation by avocational archaeologists in the 1950s revealed the structure of the mounds and retrieved a small assemblage of artifacts, some charcoal, and pockets of red ochre. Recent analysis of the artifacts, coupled with radiocarbon dating, indicates that the site was a location of some local importance from the Late Archaic through the Middle to Late Woodland periods.” (Pennsylvania Archaeologist 84(1):62-75; 2014)

Another of the mounds with Greg and Arrow for scale.
The very fine sandstones of the Logan Formation are especially well exposed in the creek beds. Here are a set of joints our structural geologist Dr. Shelley Judge would appreciate.

There are even some nice Bigfoot field structures. Who knew?We spent most of our time walking up Shade Creek. The creek bed is mostly Logan Formation sandstones.

Greg is standing here on a bedding planes of sandstone with nice ancient ripple marks. Note, by the way, the chunk of ice above his head. Still winter, but not for long.

Here’s a closer view of those ripples.Arrow here contemplates a thick exposure of dark gray shale. Greg found some nice crinoid columns in it, and I found several molds of bivalves.

The more resistant units in the Logan have the best fossils. This slab of very fine sandstone cemented with iron carbonates (a type of siderite concretion) has several internal molds of brachiopods and white calcitic crinoid columns. I described the remarkable preservation of similar crinoids in an earlier series of blog posts.

A nice, uncomplicated walk in a beautiful bit of nature.

How to Combat a Drought

November 14th, 2017

About a month ago, I wrote on this blog about an exceptionally dry late summer for Wooster.  It was dry enough to put much of northeast Ohio in a moderate drought.  But of course the moment I published that blog post, it started to rain… and historically so.  Using the Wooster Experimental Station data going back to 1900, Wooster has gone from one of the driest August-September periods to one of the wettest October-early Novembers.  The average precipitation in Wooster for Oct 3 through Nov 7 is 2.99″.  This year, we had 6.91″, more than double the average and ranking third highest ever (0.46″ lower than the record from 1954).*

So this brings us to two important questions: 1) Did this kick the drought? and 2) Why did this happen?

Figure 1. Change in drought levels for Ohio from October 3 to November 7. Data from US Drought Monitor. Wayne County is all still abnormally dry or in moderate drought, but the dryness has waned considerably.

To answer the first question: almost, but not quite.  Figure 1 shows the change in drought levels from October 3 to November 7.  The area of Ohio experiencing drought shrunk from 11% to 6% of the state, although half of Wayne County is still “in the beige”. Areas experiencing either “dryness” or “drought” shrunk from 40% to 22% of the state. The rate of evapotranspiration is also at play here, but the change in rain fortunes has likely been the main driver in alleviating the dry spell.

That second question — why did we oscillate from very dry to very wet? — has a coy answer and a serious answer.  Coy answer: The weather is fickle. Serious answer: It’s all about the polar jet stream.  The polar jet stream is a narrow band of strong westerly winds that sits up roughly 10 km (6 mi) above sea level.  Especially in winter, this jet stream is main conveyor belt of storms that affect Ohio. In a typical August and September, it usually sits a bit north of us, just north of the US-Canada border (Figure 2, upper-left), occasionally giving Ohio rain.  This year (lower left), the main jet stream path was much farther north than normal, just grazing the Canadian Arctic Archipelago.  It was a non-factor this summer for Ohio.  This abnormal ridge was also associated with a large high pressure area over most of North America.  High pressure typically means calmer, warmer summer weather — and that is precisely what we had in the Midwest. These two features — the ridge in the jet stream and the high pressure at the surface — reinforced each other to create the dry conditions in late summer.

Figure 2. Comparing jet stream patterns and “blocking highs” from August to mid-November 2017 to normal. The star (roughly) indicates Wooster Ohio. Stylized from NCEP-NCAR Reanalysis.

But since about October 3, the jet stream pattern has shifted.  A normal October has the jet stream shift southward a little anyway (Figure 2, upper right), but this year it pushed much farther south than normal over the western half of the country (lower right).  This put Ohio in a prime position to receive more storms than normal — just downwind of a big trough in the jet stream. Related to this, a smaller blocking high set up off the coast of New England and Nova Scotia, which helped direct warm, wet Atlantic air over the Appalachians and toward Wooster. The best example of the results came from the November 5 storm, when nearly 2″ of rain was accompanied by tornado warnings across several Ohio counties.

*Footnote: The start and end dates of October 3 and November 7 are rather arbitrary, but 2017 still ranks in the top ten rainiest years out of 117 even if you add or subtract a few days — so long as you include the big rain storm from November 5.


Mason, John (2013 May 20). “A Rough Guide to the Jet Stream”. Skeptical Science. Retrieved 13 Nov 2017. https://skepticalscience.com/jetstream-guide.html

Kalnay, E. and Coauthors (1996). The NCEP/NCAR Reanalysis 40-year Project. Bull. Amer. Meteor. Soc., 77, 437-471.  https://www.esrl.noaa.gov/psd/data/composites/day/

United States Drought Monitor. The National Drought Mitigation Center. Retrieved 13 Nov 2017. http://droughtmonitor.unl.edu/Maps/CompareTwoWeeks.aspx

Wooster Experimental Station at Climate Data Online (1900 – 2017). NOAA. Retrieved 13 Nov 2017. https://www.ncdc.noaa.gov/cdo-web/datasets/GHCND/stations/GHCND:USC00339312/detail

Wooster’s Fossil of the Week: a medullosalean pteridosperm (Upper Carboniferous of northeastern Ohio)

May 5th, 2017

It is time we had another fossil plant in this series. The above specimen is Neuropteris ovata Hoffmann 1826, a relatively common bit of foliage in the Upper Carboniferous of North America. This is a pteridosperm, more commonly known as a seed fern. They weren’t really ferns at all but fern-like plants with some of the first real seeds. They are usually reconstructed as trees, but were also known to be bushy or even like climbing vines.

The taxonomy (naming system) of fossil plants can be very complicated because different plant parts were given different names at different times. A single plant species, then, could have a list of names for its foliage, bark, roots, seeds, etc. The name Neuropteris usually thus refers to the leaves of this particular pteridosperm.

Neuropteris ovata is famous for its use in studies of the distribution of stomata on its leaf surfaces. Stomata, sometimes called guard cells, regulate gas exchange and moisture retention in vascular land plants. The density of stomata on N. ovata leaves in the Late Carboniferous may reflect changes in carbon dioxide levels and the expansion and contraction of tropical forests (Cleal et al., 1999).

Neuropteris ovata was named by Friedrich Hoffmann (1797-1836), a Professor of Geology at the University of Berlin. I wish I knew more about him because not only did he do considerable paleobotanical research, he was also well known for his work on volcanoes in Italy. You don’t see that combination very often!


Beeler, H.E. 1983. Anatomy and frond architecture of Neuropteris ovata and N. scheuchzeri from the Upper Pennsylvanian of the Appalachian Basin. Canadian Journal of Botany 61: 2352-2368.

Cleal, C.J., James, R.M. and Zodrow, E.L. 1999. Variation in stomatal density in the Late Carboniferous gymnosperm frond Neuropteris ovata. Palaios 14: 180-185.

Hoffmann, F. 1826. Untersuchungen über die Pänzen-Reste des Kohlengebirges von Ibbenbühren und von Piesberg bei Osnabrück. Archiv für Bergbau und Hüttenwesen 13: 266-282.

Zodrow, E.L. and Cleal, C.J. 1988. The structure of the Carboniferous pteridosperm frond Neuropteris ovata Hoffman. Palaeontographica Abteilung Palaophytologie 208: 105-124.

[Originally posted on October 23, 2011.]

Wooster’s Fossils of the Week: Bivalve escape trace fossils (Devonian and Cretaceous)

April 7th, 2017

It is time again to dip into the wonderful world of trace fossils. These are tracks, trails, burrows and other evidence of organism behavior. The specimen above is an example. It is Lockeia James, 1879, from the Dakota Formation (Upper Cretaceous). These are traces attributed to infaunal (living within the sediment) bivalves trying to escape deeper burial by storm-deposited sediment. If you look closely, you can see thin horizontal lines made by the clams as they pushed upwards. These structures belong to a behavioral category called Fugichnia (from the Latin fug for “flee”). They are excellent evidence for … you guessed it … ancient storms.
The specimens above are also Lockeia, but from much older rocks (the Chagrin Shale, Upper Devonian of northeastern Ohio). Both slabs show the fossil traces preserved in reverse as sediment that filled the holes rather than the holes themselves. These are the bottoms of the sedimentary beds. We call this preservation, in our most excellent paleontological terminology, convex hyporelief. (Convex for sticking out; hyporelief for being on the underside of the bed.)

The traces we know as Lockeia are sometimes incorrectly referred to as Pelecypodichnus, but Lockeia has ichnotaxonomic priority (it was the earliest name). Maples and West (1989) sort that out for us.
Uriah Pierson James (1811-1889) named Lockeia. He was one of the great amateur Cincinnatian fossil collectors and chroniclers. In 1845, he guided the premier geologist of the time, Charles Lyell, through the Cincinnati hills examining the spectacular Ordovician fossils there. He was the father of Joseph Francis James (1857-1897), one of the early systematic ichnologists.


James, U.P. 1879. The Paleontologist, No. 3. Privately published, Cincinnati, Ohio. p. 17-24.

Maples, C.G. and Ronald R. West, R.R. 1989. Lockeia, not Pelecypodichnus. Journal of Paleontology 63: 694-696.

Radley, J.D., Barker, M.J. and Munt, M.C. 1998. Bivalve trace fossils (Lockeia) from the Barnes High Sandstone (Wealden Group, Lower Cretaceous) of the Wessex Sub-basin, southern England. Cretaceous Research 19: 505-509.

[Originally published January 29, 2012]

Wooster’s Fossils of the Week: Strophomenid brachiopods from the Upper Ordovician of southern Ohio

March 24th, 2017

Usually I find fossils in the field or lab and then craft a Fossil of the Week entry around them. This time, though, I started with a paper and then searched for fossils to illustrate it. I found this recent paper very well done:

Bauer, J.E. and Stigall, A.L. 2016. A combined morphometric and phylogenetic revision of the Late Ordovician brachiopod genera Eochonetes and Thaerodonta. Journal of Paleontology 90: 888-909.

It does classic systematics on a group of brachiopods with the modern tools of morphometric and phylogenetic analyses. Its conclusions are direct and convincing: The genus Thaerodonta is synonymous with Eochonetes, and a variety of species are shifted around, solving problems that have lingered for over a century, Plus as a bonus, who can’t love a new species named Eochonetes voldemortus? So I set out to find specimens of this brachiopod group in our collections. Above are internal valve views of the brachiopod Eochonetes clarksvillensis (Foerste, 1912), showing characteristic denticles (little teeth) along the hinge line. Below are external valve views. Jen Bauer herself kindly confirmed the identifications!

These specimens come from the Waynesville Formation (Katian) exposed at Caesar Creek in southern Ohio, a place we have had many paleontology field trips. E. clarksvillensis is common in the Waynesville and overlying Liberty formations. Read much more about it in Bauer and Stigall (2016).

The genus Eochonetes was named by Frederick Richard Cowper Reed in 1917 from the Ordovician of Scotland. (The British Isles were not too far away from Ohio in the Late Ordovician.) Reed was born in London in 1869 and died in Cambridge, England, in 1946. I tried mightily but could find no images of him to enter into the digital archives of the web. He was a smart and diverse geologist, attending Trinity College, Cambridge, and winning important awards and scholarships. He was appointed assistant to the Woodwardian Professor of Geology at Cambridge in 1892, a position he kept until retirement. In 1901 he earned the Sedgwick Prize for his work on the rivers of East Yorkshire, wrote a book on the geology of the British Empire (much easier to do today!), and yet still found time to describe fossils in numerous papers.

The author of Eochonetes clarksvillensis is much better known to paleontologists of the Cincinnati region. It is August F. Foerste (1862-1936), who named Thaerodonta clarksvillensis in 1912. Foerste grew up and worked in the Dayton, Ohio, area, graduating from Denison University after publishing many papers as a student. He returned to Dayton after earning a PhD from Harvard, teaching high school for 38 years. When he retired he turned down a teaching position at the University of Chicago and instead worked at the Smithsonian Institution until the end of his life. He is one of the giants of the Cincinnati School of paleontology.


Bauer, J.E. and Stigall, A.L. 2016. A combined morphometric and phylogenetic revision of the Late Ordovician brachiopod genera Eochonetes and Thaerodonta. Journal of Paleontology 90: 888-909.

Reed, F.R.C. 1917. The Ordovician and Silurian Brachiopoda of the Girvan District: Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh 51: 795–998.

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