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464 pages, Hardcover
First published February 1, 2022
“Those worlds, those otherlands, cannot be visited � at least, not in a physical sense. You can never visit the environments through which titanic dinosaurs strode, never walk on their soil nor swim in their water. The only way to experience them is rockwise, to read the imprints in the frozen sand and to imagine a disappeared Earth.
This book is an exploration of the Earth as it used to exist, the changes that have occurred during its history, and the ways that life has found to adapt, or not.�
“There is no such thing as a fixed ideal for an environment, no reef onto which nostalgia can anchor. The human imposition of borders on the world inevitably changes our perception of what ‘belongs� where, but to look into deep time is to see only an ever-changing list of inhabitants of one ecosystem or another. That is not to say that native species do not exist, only that the concept of native that we so easily tie to a sense of place also applies to time.�
“In the complex game that is an ecosystem, every player is connected to some, but not all, others, a web not just of food but of competition, of who lives where, of light and shade, and of internal disputes within species. Extinction bursts through that web, breaking connections and threatening its integrity. Sever one strand, and it wavers, reshapes, but survives. Tear another, and it will still hold. Over long periods, repairs are made as species adapt, and new balances are reached, new associations made. If enough strands are broken at once, the web will collapse, drifting in the breeze, and the world will have to make do with what little remains. So, after a mass extinction event, a turnover happens, with new species appearing, the web self-repairing.�
Our planet’s past lies hidden under the dirt. It wears the scars of its formation and change in its crust, and it, too, is a mortuary, memorializing its inhabitants in stone, fossils acting as grave marker, mask and body. Those worlds, those otherlands, cannot be visited � at least, not in a physical sense. You can never visit the environments through which titanic dinosaurs strode, never walk on their soil nor swim in their water. The only way to experience them is rockwise, to read the imprints in the frozen sand and to imagine a disappeared Earth. This book is an exploration of the Earth as it used to exist, the changes that have occurred during its history, and the ways that life has found to adapt, or not.
To consider the landscapes that once existed is to feel the draw of a temporal wanderlust. My hope is that you will read this in the vein of a naturalist’s travel book, albeit one of lands distant in time rather than space, and begin to see the last 500 million years not as an endless expanse of unfathomable time, but as a series of worlds, simultaneously fabulous yet familiar.
This is now undoubtedly a human planet. It has not always been, and perhaps will not always be, but, for now, our species has an influence unlike almost any other biological force. The world as it is today is a direct result � not a conclusion or a denouement, but a result � of what has gone before. Much of life in the past happens in a steady state of slow-changing existence, but there are times when everything can become upended. Unavoidable impacts from space, eruptions at a continental scale, global glaciation � the all-pervasive transitions that force life’s structures to remodel themselves. Had any of those events happened in another way, or not happened at all, the then-unwritten future could have emerged very differently. It is by looking at the past that palaeobiologists, ecologists and climate scientists can address the uncertainty about the near- and long-term future of our planet, casting backwards to predict possible futures.
No environment stays the same for ever, and if your niche disappears, extinction follows.
Life evolves to fit the world in which it finds itself, but geography, of ocean currents, the position of continents, wind patterns and atmospheric chemistry defines the parameters of that world.
By the time the mammoth steppe finally came to an end, when Wrangel’s mammoths glinted on cliffs overlooking the flooded plains of Beringia, the Great Pyramid of Giza and the Norte Chico in Peru had already existed for generations, and the civilizations of the Indus Vally were centuries old.
At about the time the last Wrangel mammoths died, the Mesopotamian city of Uruk was ruled by Gilgamesh, the Sumerian king and protagonist of the oldest written story, one of the oldest works of literature in any form.
The rocks record a decline in the large carnivore number and diversity that peaks in intensity 2 million years before the present, just as the first species of Homo emerge from the Rift. The large carnivores that will survive to the present are the specialist meat-eaters—big cats, hyenas and wild dogs � that prey on large, dangerous herbivores. Those that will be lost � otters, a bear, giant civets � are mixed feeders on plants, mollusks, fish, fruit � precisely the niche that we will ultimately make our own.
What is important in conserving a ecosystem is conserving the functions, the connections between organism that form a complete, interacting whole. In reality, species do move, and the notion of ‘native� species is inevitably arbitrary, often tied into national identity.
Our biology in the modern day, our poor colour vision, is a direct consequence of our reliance on scent, our abandonment of vision, our ancestral journey into the night.
The Triassic is a period of change and experimentation, a time on Earth when, to modern eyes, it would seem as if anything goes.
In part, this is probably thanks to the hangover from the mass extinction that occurred at the boundary between the Permian and Triassic periods[…]
Every animal phylum that exists in modern day has its origins during the Cambrian or, in some cases, earlier.