Further thoughts on the location of Finn's Glen

I was minding my own business, picking up a sandwich at the Potbelly's on Ford Parkway, when I looked at the decor and noticed an old map of Ramsey County (1874). Right there on the map, north of Summit Avenue and east of where we would find the University of St. Thomas today, is "Wm. Finn". William Finn. Finn of Finn's Glen.

Forgive the flare. It was a dramatic moment.

Bingo. Meaning what, exactly? (Unfortunately, it doesn't identify the glen.) Years ago I wrote about Finn's Glen in conjunction with Shadow Falls. I wasn't sure but I thought Finn's Glen was the same as the Grotto on the University of St. Thomas campus, south of Shadow Falls. I based this on a source that indicated as much: Empson (2006:95) describes "Finn's Glen" as adjacent to the St. Paul Seminary, south of Summit Avenue, and a place of meditation. As a University of St. Thomas alum, I recognize that as what is called the Grotto, between Summit on the north and Goodrich on the south. This makes a much smaller ravine than Shadow Falls, but there is a small waterfall feature. Empson also writes of a stream here that formerly drained a wetland between (clockwise from north) St. Clair, Snelling, Randolph, and Fairview. We can see this in Winchell's "Falls of St. Anthony" map (1877). But...

Finn's Glen is clearly marked...

...Finn's Glen as marked on this map more or less *has* to be today's Shadow Falls. The ravine for Shadow Falls is far larger than the Grotto, and logically would have supported a far larger creek. Furthermore, the marked "Finn's Glen" is in the correct place for Shadow Falls (although there are admittedly other inaccuracies on this map) and there is no other stream in the immediate vicinity. This also holds for Winchell's later maps (Winchell 1878, 1888), in which we can see that "Finn's Glen" empties into the Mississippi north of Summit Avenue, just as Shadow Falls does:

From Winchell (1878).

From Winchell (1888).

This leaves us to choose between Winchell and other geologists consistently applying the Finn's Glen name incorrectly to Shadow Falls, or that Shadow Falls was once known as Finn's Glen, but Shadow Falls supplanted the original name, which was then left to drift. Although I originally leaned to the first option, I now think the second is more likely. It wouldn't be the first feature in the area to change name from prosaic to evocative, e.g., Brown's Falls becoming Minnehaha Falls. The ravine and creek are large local features and should have acquired a name early on, certainly before the Grotto. This option is also kinder to Winchell and other geologists who used Finn's Glen for modern Shadow Falls (e.g., Sardeson and Ulrich). Does it fit with the timeline?

Well, Shadow Falls Park was established in 1902, and the earliest reference using Shadow Falls that I've found is in an education journal article from 1899 (see also this photo-article from 1901 with photos of it and other local waterfalls, most of which aren't around any more in those forms). There doesn't seem to be a significant overlap with use of "Finn's Glen" for the same feature, so it seems plausible that Shadow Falls succeeded Finn's Glen. Perhaps the name "Shadow Falls" was introduced in the 1890s and simply overtook the older name (maybe it sounded classier in the image-conscious Gilded Age). Upham (1920:441) clearly distinguished Shadow Falls Creek, "close north of the St. Paul Seminary," from Finn's Glen "about a mile farther south". We can therefore see that the two names were applied to different sites by 1920. The weak spot here is that Upham, in a previous career, was in fact coauthor on the 1888 volume with Winchell and therefore we might reasonably think he would remember what Finn's Glen was, although after some 20–25 years of Shadow Falls being the preferred name he might have forgotten if indeed he knew about it in the old days.

Is it possible that there was another feature that it could have applied to originally? Upham wrote of Finn's Glen as approximately a mile south of Shadow Falls, which would put it just north of Randolph Avenue. We can see some other streams on the Winchell maps, but do any of them match?

Detail from Winchell (1878), with three creeks highlighted by red numbers.

#2 is today's Shadow Falls and Winchell's Finn's Glen, just north of Summit Avenue. #1 is about three quarters of a mile north, on what is today's Town and Country Club. (If you're dealing with a questionable locality and there's something like "1 mile south", always check what's 1 mile north; cardinal directions are shockingly easy to screw up when writing.) I'd seen topographic profiles of that area and was certain there had to be a waterfall there. Well, there was, but it's been gone a long time. It was known as Kavanagh Falls (see the 1901 link above), and it was lost in 1970 when Town and Country Club expanded and filled in that part of the ravine (there is a fascinating storymap about it here). (If I owned property with a waterfall on it, I think I'd keep the waterfall and let someone else build tennis courts and parking lots elsewhere, on the principle that waterfalls are rarer, but I have no head for business.)

#3 is more of a mystery. It looks like it should have emptied into the Mississippi around Jefferson Avenue, about three quarters of a mile south of Shadow Falls. This is not a mile, but it's not unconscionably off, either. This one is even harder to account for than Kavanagh Falls. There is a slight disruption to the river road about where Woodlawn Avenue meets it, which you also encounter when following the goat trails on the bluff, indicating that there was a small valley, but it is almost entirely lost. Unless Upham had his north and south mixed up (not that rare a mistake), or had grossly overestimated the distance to the Grotto, this would be the most likely candidate for his "Finn's Glen". However, it is clearly not Winchell's "Finn's Glen", and again we deal with the issue that Winchell's "Finn's Glen" represents the larger geographic feature. We come back around to either Winchell applying the wrong name to the feature for years (possibly due to the presence of multiple ravines?), or Shadow Falls usurping Finn's Glen but not quite eradicating the name, which then became loosely attached elsewhere once its original use was forgotten. (Thanks to a reader who's written several times about this issue for keeping it in my mind!)

References

Empson, D. L. 2006. The street where you live: a guide to the place names of St. Paul. University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Upham, W. 1920. Minnesota geographic names: their origin and historic significance. Collections of the Minnesota Historical Society 17. Minnesota Historical Society, St. Paul, Minnesota.

Winchell, N. H. 1877. The geology of Hennepin County. Minnesota Geological Survey, St. Paul, Minnesota. Annual Report 5:131–201.

Winchell, N. H. 1878. The geology of Ramsey County. Minnesota Geological Survey, St. Paul, Minnesota. Annual Report 6:66–92.

Winchell, N. H. 1888. The geology of Ramsey County. Pages 345–374 in N. H. Winchell and W. Upham. The geology of Minnesota. Minnesota Geological and Natural History Survey, Final Report 2. Johnson, Smith & Harrison, state printers, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

How to complicate the Glenwood

Recently I've been doing some work with geological stratotypes in National Park Service areas. The naming of geological formations is not unlike naming a fossil species of organism (or living species for that matter), except the type locality is also the type "specimen", and you don't dig up the type locality and put it in a museum (although you could certainly take a core). Anyway, there are a few stratotypes located within Mississippi National River and Recreation Area. I've alluded a couple of times to the type locality of the St. Peter Sandstone being the bluff under Fort Snelling. This locality is no longer accessible due to protective measures, but the formation *is* exposed in the immediate vicinity. The type locality of the Hidden Falls Member of the Platteville is in Hidden Falls Park (Sloan 1956). Sloan didn't state specifically where, but I have a pretty good idea. Finally, there are two units named from the section exposed at Lock and Dam No. 1.

Beautiful exposure, even if you can't climb around on it.

The Twin Cities Basin is just a small part of the area where the St. Peter–Glenwood–Platteville–Decorah sequence is exposed, and across this area, the rocks differ and the names differ. Reconciling nomenclature across states is part of what Mossler (2008) was about. An example of outstate attention on the Twin Cities Basin is Templeton and Willman (1963), from the Illinois Geological Survey. This publication brings the Illinois nomenclature into the Twin Cities, via a section at Lock and Dam No. 1 (p. 226–227). If you're used to the local names, the Lock and Dam section requires a lot of translation. For example, the Platteville is considered a group, divided into three formations and nine members. The Templeton and Willman nomenclature has not taken off in Minnesota, which has preferred a simpler system, and I can't say I disagree. It seems like overkill to pack that many formal divisions into about 9 vertical meters (30 ft), many of which are not visually distinguishable at a distance of a few meters. Their divisions of the transition from the St. Peter to the Platteville are another matter.

Beginning with our old friend the Pecatonica and going down, Templeton and Willman (1963) divided the Lock and Dam rocks into the Chana Member and Hennepin Member of the Pecatonica Formation (Platteville Group), the Harmony Hill Member and Nokomis Member of the Glenwood Formation, and the St. Peter Sandstone. Two of these members were named from this section: the Hennepin Member and Nokomis Member. In turn:

My initial thoughts. Arrows point to the approximate center of the named unit, so I don't have to commit to contacts like the coward and cad I am. The scale boxes are *very* rough; I was able to put a scale bar on the outer wall, but this is some distance back, so prefer a larger number and don't take it too seriously.

...Or is this what Templeton and Willman intended? Might be easier if I could get closer.

The Chana Member, 28 cm thick (11 in), is basically what we recognize as the Pecatonica;

The Hennepin Member is 69 cm (27 in) thick, divided into three parts: 46 cm (18 in) of clay-rich greenish-gray limestone, and green shale, over 15 cm (6 in) of clay-rich greenish-gray slightly sandy limestone, over 8 cm (3 in) of brown dolomitic sandstone (Templeton and Willman 1963). This unit, or at least the upper part of it, can be easily distinguished visually beneath the blocky overlying rocks (pers. obs.; see also the photos at the end of this post—areas that look white are weathered). The other two parts I'm not as sure about. The Hennepin Member should be thicker than the Chana and the underlying Harmony Hill put together, but from my photos and observations, I see four distinct units over whitish sandstone. Three of them seem fairly similar in thickness: the classic Minnesota Pecatonica, a light-colored recessive unit, and a greenish-brown recessive unit. Below them is a thinner, even more recessive yellow-brown unit. My first thought was that the greenish recessive unit was the Harmony Hill Member, but if I put it in the Hennepin Member and assume that the 15 cm and 8 cm beds of Templeton and Willman (1963) are both included in it, we get something much closer to the overall relative thicknesses T&W found for the Hennepin versus the Chana. Plus, the underlying thin yellow-brown interval looks to be closer to their description of the Harmony Hill Member. The internal proportions are still out of whack, though (three roughly equal units in photos versus 28 cm over 46 cm over 15+8 cm in the publication). (In case you were wondering, there is a grand total of zero [0] photos of outcrops in T&W '63, which is regrettable. A single decent photo with a couple of arrows would have helped immensely.) At any rate, the Hennepin Member is more shaley than the description in T&W '63 implies, or, rather, is less carbonate-rich (Mossler 2008). The Minnesota Geological Survey regards it as the upper part of the Glenwood Formation, rather than the basal part of the Platteville (Mossler 2008);

The Harmony Hill Member is 23 cm (9 in) of yellow-green shale (Templeton and Willman 1963);

The Nokomis Member is also tricky. Templeton and Willman (1963) described it as 330 cm (110 in) thick, divided into 10 to 18 cm (4 to 7 in) of silty white sandstone, over 58 cm (23 in) of very silty, greenish-buff to red-brown, thin-bedded, partly ferruginous sandstone, over 224 cm (78 in) of very silty white to yellow-buff sandstone. Mossler (2008) noted that an interval of silty sand is commonly found in Minnesota between standard Glenwood and standard St. Peter, and this interval has frequently been included in the Glenwood. (The Glenwood is a bigger deal outside of Minnesota.) However, this interval is difficult to distinguish from standard St. Peter in well logs and natural gamma logs, so for practical purposes Mossler (2008) recommended including it in the St. Peter. It is also difficult to identify a difference just by looking at the outcrop from the vantage point of the landing. The best I can do is identify a couple of slope breaks that may indicate changes in mineralogy which are not otherwise apparent from color or bedding at that distance. A contact in the vicinity of the lower slope break would give a thickness in the vicinity of the quoted figure.

The breaks are easier to see in oblique view than straight on. Note also how plants like to colonize the Glenwood–upper Nokomis interval.

References

Mossler, J. H. 2008. Paleozoic stratigraphic nomenclature for Minnesota. Minnesota Geological Survey, St. Paul, Minnesota. Report of Investigations 65.

Sloan, R. E. 1956. Hidden Falls Member of Platteville Formation, Minnesota. Bulletin of the American Association of Petroleum Geologists 40(12):2955–2956.

Templeton, J. S., and H. B. Willman. 1963. Champlainian Series (Middle Ordovician) in Illinois. Illinois Geological Survey, Champaign, Illinois. Bulletin 89. [large file]

Revisiting Coldwater Spring and Fort Snelling State Park

The same day I got out to Shadow Falls Park, I also stopped at Coldwater Spring and Fort Snelling State Park. These locations are geologically restricted to the Platteville down to the St. Peter, and the exposures are much more in the bluff mode of expression.

Lo, the type section of the St. Peter Sandstone, mostly behind a wall (probably for the best, given the way people use any handy outcrop of the St. Peter to practice their rock-carving skills)

What impressed me at these sites were the numerous rockfalls. It seemed like a lot, but I don't have the numbers to judge. It would actually be a simple project: somebody could periodically go along the paved path and document new falls by photos and GPS. The rub is that it's also a long-term project; you wouldn't get useful information from a couple of years.

At this fall, out of the Mifflin Member of the Platteville, it's easy to see the lighter color where the rocks used to be.

The outcrops of the Hidden Falls and Magnolia members just north of Coldwater have been taking a beating lately, although I'll grant that it's not as impressive when they only fall a few feet. There's both day-to-day attrition and larger collapses.

If you should happen to go below the paved path, down toward the river (say if you're going into the dog park), you can also see evidence of older disruption, where large blocks of Platteville have been displaced.

If the beds are noticeably tilted, that's a good indication they aren't where they started. (And also the whole "lying in jumbled heaps" thing, that's a good clue.)

A small, gentle waterfall southeast of Coldwater, unnamed as far as I know, running through a cleft in the St. Peter.

Given the geology, fossils weren't terribly diverse or well-preserved. There were the usual brachiopod beds exposed on some of the fallen blocks:

There were also these things. 99.999% says they're a couple of weathered burrows, although the coincidental weathering on the longer of the two made me think of segmented stems when I first saw them, which would be rather odd for the Platteville. Further study of the photo showed that the "segmented" feature was longer than I thought, and that the apparent segmentation was limited to the two lines.

Same photo, light red lines added to trace the features.

Revisiting Shadow Falls Park

I like to periodically recheck various sites along the Mississippi corridor, to see how the elements are treating them, if there have been any major rock falls, damage from downed trees, changes in usage, etc. One of the places I get to more frequently than others is Shadow Falls Park. It has an informal reputation for collecting and is a place with soil on steep slopes (plus access is good and I like going there).

Here's the trail on the south side of the valley past the falls (which are essentially just to the right and a little below the vantage point of this photo).

Erosion may not be immediately evident if you don't have something to measure the loss of sediment, but in places with tree roots near the surface on the slopes it's easy to see how running water and gravity have done their work.

Almost a staircase of roots.

The usual array of lower Decorah fossils was present, in small chunks of rock and loose. It seemed to be a particularly good day for observing strophomenids (in the hash plates, primarily; they tend to break up otherwise). One example in the photo below is probably Rafinesquina, based on the thinness of the valve. This genus is named after Rafinesque, who we met last week and had a much more substantial career than getting into arguments about sloths. Another nice piece observed was a Bumastoides pygidium.

A. Probable Rafinesquina valve. B. Bumastoides pygidium

In one area I observed two pieces of a larger specimen of Rauffella palmipes. This is all catch-and-release, of course!

Two fragments of a large Rauffella palmipes.

Shadow Falls includes not only the falls, but a long valley oriented east-west with its head near but not quite reaching Cretin Avenue. I haven't spent much time in the valley above the falls because the area right above the falls tends to turn into a muddy swamp, but it's been a dry spring. The creek feeding the falls is in a very deep valley for its size, but would have been somewhat bigger in the days before sewers and roads.

The creek valley above Shadow Falls...

...opens up into this near its head.

There are several large fossiliferous blocks along the creek that include crinoid columnals notably larger in diameter than the run-of-the-mill lower Decorah columnals (note that the photo in the linked post is biased to larger, more photogenic columnals). The obvious guess is that they were brought to the area by glaciers and represent a different part of the stratigraphic column, say the upper Decorah or one of the overlying Ordovician formations that have been stripped from the area.

Large columnals

Phycodes: bundles of burrows

I'm going out of the office again, so, like last year, I'm tossing up a few pictures of something I find interesting, in this case an invertebrate trace fossil called Phycodes (not to be confused with Phycodes the moth). I touched on Phycodes briefly a few years ago, using the image included below:

That pale gray color is characteristic of the Brickyard in Lilydale, for whatever reason(s).

The whole piece looks like this:

"Licrophycus ottawaensis" in older literature.

I collected it on a Geological Society of Minnesota visit back in 2006 and it has since become one of the pieces I like to take to events because it's a great teaching fossil. I ask people what it is and let them explain their choice if they want to, and then I identify it. I get a lot of plant-based guesses (which of course is what a lot of paleontologists and geologists thought this kind of structure was decades ago). What Phycodes really is is an invertebrate trace fossil recording the behavior of some kind of wormy animal probing in the mud for food and returning to a central point. This resulted in splayed bundles of burrows, giving the trace fossil a characteristic root-like or mop-like appearance. It doesn't have quite the oomph of a dinosaur bone, but it looks interesting, it's good for conversation, and worms are more familiar than, say, crinoids.

When space is an issue, I have a more compact specimen.

Phycodes turns up every so often in the Decorah. It's not as common as Rauffella (which has turned up in a half-dozen posts so far), but it certainly makes a striking fossil.

Suitable for framing: this chunk is almost entirely Phycodes, with little matrix, which also makes it more fragile than the first two specimens (too bad, because it's also the best). The individual tubes are a bit smaller in diameter than those of the first two as well.

The makers of Decorah Phycodes differed from the makers of Rauffella in a couple of notable ways: Phycodes-makers were smaller (a few mm in diameter versus finger thickness for many Rauffella) and apparently smoother (no surficial striations in Phycodes).

This piece is one of the group from the construction site last year. I'm not certain what kind of ichnofossil it is. It resembles Phycodes templus, but it's also kind of poorly preserved and it's not clear if the burrows are bundled, so it might not be Phycodes at all. (Another possibility is poorly preserved "Camarocladia".) Note the brassy ooids.

David Dale Owen and the first geological survey of Minnesota

Although Keating, Featherstonhaugh, and Nicollet made significant contributions to Minnesota geology, the first true geological survey in what is now Minnesota would have to wait until 1847. At this point, the future state was split between Wisconsin Territory and a leftover chunk of Iowa Territory, and with the pending organization of Wisconsin into a state it was actually touch-and-go for a while how the boundaries would fall out. The convergence of St. Croix Valley interests versus the rest of Wisconsin with the old Northwest Territory stipulation that a maximum of five states be made out of the territory, and a dash of underlying slave state versus free state politics, could have led to anything from a super-Wisconsin incorporating much of what is eastern Minnesota to a separate state centered on the St. Croix Valley with Stillwater as the capital (the story can looked at briefly here). Anyway, in 1847 Congress authorized a geological survey in Minnesota and neighboring areas, and appointed David Dale Owen to conduct the work (Hendrickson 1945).

A portrait of Owen, found on p. 206 of Owen (1852).

Joseph Nicollet

Judging by place names, Joseph Nicollet must have been a much more popular man than George William Featherstonhaugh. (Or maybe it was just the fact that it took sixteen letters to spell George's name while only taking seven to say it that proved unappealing.) I'm not sure if anyone in Minnesota attached George's name to anything, whereas Nicollet is the namesake for such pieces of geography as Nicollet County, Nicollet Mall, and Nicollet Island. His name was even attached to a ballpark, the long-time home of the old Minneapolis Millers, although probably the adjacent Nicollet Avenue was the main inspiration.

George William Featherstonhaugh

I've been looking at some of the early geological expeditions in the United States for work, and I thought I'd take a couple of posts to look at some of the pre-Civil War geologists who visited the Twin Cities area of Minnesota. We've already briefly looked at William Keating and the Stephen Long expedition of 1823, so I thought I'd move on to the next figure of note, George William Featherstonhaugh.

George William Featherstonhaugh, borrowed from Wikimedia Commons, who borrowed it from the Minnesota Historical Society.

The Platteville Formation revisited

For the person interested in fossils in the Twin Cities, the Decorah Shale is money in the bank. It's a cooking pot that never empties, a gas tank that's always full. If you have a patch of it, you cannot lose. The Platteville Formation is more like a lottery ticket. If you pick up a random piece, the chances are good it will have nothing, or maybe an imperfect brachiopod mold or two, or some "eyelashes" from shells in cross-section, or half of a burrow. Even when you do find a chunk that's loaded with fossils, usually it's 95% brachiopods and 5% snails, with a couple of crinoid columnals, bivalves, or bryozoans for variety. Every so often, though, you will come up with something unusual. It's true that the Decorah also rewards in-depth exploration, but the "floor" of discovery is so much higher in the Decorah that the feeling when you do find something out of the ordinary in the Platteville is much different. It's more of an accomplishment. The universe has rewarded your perseverance, has conspired with taphonomy, lithification, and erosion to put someone with the proper skills and inclination (i.e. you) in this place at this time to observe and appreciate this fossil. (I will refrain from pulling out the conulariid again.)

I've seen a few of these big snails; not sure about the genus yet.

In terms of preservation, the Decorah Shale is a strictly representational artist dedicated to faithful reproduction of the fossils, thanks to relatively mild conditions for fossilization and diagenesis (the stuff that happens during and after the formation of sedimentary rocks, like replacement of calcite with dolomite). Thanks to dolomitization, the Platteville Formation of the Twin Cities Basin is a sort of minimalist impressionist, retaining only some essential essence of a given fossil while losing most of the fine details. (It also has a thing for sparkles, what with all of the fine dolomite crystals.)

And then we've got blocks like these, doing a decent job of imitating the Decorah. I think I can place the source to a specific bed in the upper Mifflin, but it may be very localized.

On Saturday, I was the guest paleontologist for the Second Saturday fossil event at Coldwater Spring. (I'm the tall one with the facial hair.) After having spent a lot of time along the gorge, I think it is fair to say that Coldwater Spring is one of the best places in the Twin Cities to be in close contact with the Platteville Formation, if not the best. It is certainly the best place to take people of all ages and experience levels to see Platteville rocks and fossils. In most locations on the gorge, the Platteville is a brooding presence capping whitish bluffs of St. Peter Sandstone, inaccessible to all but the most reckless. At some places where a ravine joins the gorge, such as Shadow Falls, Minnehaha Falls, and a few locations on the Minneapolis side of the river, you can walk around parts of the Platteville, but you also are stuck on narrow paths where you've got the Platteville on at least one side, sometimes two (the other side is the one above your head), and the steep slope of the bluffs on the other. This can be chancy when you're on your own and is not feasible for groups of non-professionals, and even when you do go, you usually only get to see the lower part of the formation. By virtue of erosion and some human modification, Coldwater Spring allows you to appreciate the Platteville at close range on level ground. The gentle slope of the bike path trail means it's a short walk from the lower Platteville exposed at the south end of the park to the upper Platteville at the north end. This chance alignment also means you can get right next to the contact with the Glenwood at more or less level ground as well. October is also one of the best times to visit: the vegetation is dying back so you can see the rocks, the temperature and humidity are comfortable, mosquitoes and ticks are in retreat, and the ground is is not saturated with spring snowmelt.

The park is also great for these fossil walks because of the fossiliferous building stone and the presence of several areas with lots of small eroded blocks of the Platteville. I can bring families to the building stone used in the parking area and near the Spring House to give them an idea of what the fossils look like, and then the kids can rummage around in the loose stone. It's a great time: if your family is here, you're probably already the kind of kid who likes to rummage around in rocks; the Platteville is a reliable producer of shelly fossils, so everybody should get to see something; there's that paleontologist guy who can tell you what you've found, and if it's really interesting he'll call everybody over to see what it is; and there are also lots of interesting bugs and spiders and so forth if you're striking out on the fossil front, without anything too dangerous (one of the perks of exploring in Minnesota, although we do scare the bejeezus out of many innocent pillbugs). I get lots of questions, and nobody seems to mind that it's "catch and release" here (NPS property). I've been around the rock pile a few times, so I'm jaded. It takes more than a couple of brachiopod molds to get my interest. But if this is your first time to visit fossils in the field, to turn over a rock and maybe be the first person to ever see the brachs on that particular slab, you can't do much better.

First shells!

Thanksgiving Leftovers

You're probably pretty busy this weekend. How about something light, like some photos? These all come from a few site visits over October and November, taking advantage of the very pleasant autumn weather conditions in the Twin Cities metro.

This and the next photo come from the U.S. Route 10 roadcuts, in the Shakopee Formation (Prairie du Chien Group). All of the little stone rainbows are small domed stromatolites. At very close range, you can distinguish between layers that are "crystalline", so to speak, representing minerals deposited by the microbes, and layers of sand (a grain or two thick). There is a band populated by these small stromatolites about as thick as the area photographed here that extends for at least a few tens of meters. (I do not recommend casual visits along this busy road; the couple of times I've stopped have been Sunday mornings.)

Quick notes: 10th Conference on Fossil Resources, Fossil Cycad National Monument

I just got back from the Conference on Fossil Resources (#10, hosted by the South Dakota School of Mines & Technology at Rapid City; I'd like to compliment the organizers on the fine meeting!), so I haven't really had the opportunity to do anything in-depth for the blog. As a consolation prize of sorts, you can follow this link to read the article I presented on Thursday. The citation is at the end (the title is the best part).

A major part of the conference concerned a site represented in the above photograph, a pleasant and picturesque slice of the southern Black Hills once known as Fossil Cycad National Monument. You may notice a distinct lack of fossil cycads (actually, cycadeoids, which are not quite the same thing) or National Monuments in this photo. This is because practically all of the surficial fossils were removed, in large part thanks to the researcher who wanted the site to be a national monument in the first place. My supervisor and sometimes coauthor Vince Santucci wrote a new history of the site for the conference volume, and I'll be sure to post it when the pdf is available. For now, perhaps you'd be interested in a previous version? Other accounts can be found here (National Parks Traveler), here (National Fossil Day), and here (Capital Journal, Pierre, SD).

References cited:

Tweet, J. S. 2014. Smashed rodents, false preprints, and the BBC: the paleontology of Mississippi River and National Recreation Area, Minnesota. Dakoterra 6:107–118.

Reference diagrams

Just a quick post...

I have a couple of diagrams that given the basics of the bedrock geology of the central Twin Cities. One covers all of the formations exposed as bedrock within MNRRA, and the other focuses on the St. Paul–Minneapolis bluffs (note that thicknesses and rock types differ elsewhere). They are based on a combination of information in Mossler and Tipping (2000), Mossler (2008, 2013), personal observations, and recommendations from the Minnesota Geological Survey. The patterns and symbols come from the USGS's standards (http://pubs.usgs.gov/tm/2006/11A02/), except for the little fossil cartoons, which came from photos run through a comic filter. They're admittedly schematic (my disconformities are nothing to write home about, and I just used arbitrary widths for susceptibility to erosion, with more resistant rock types sticking out farther), and I'm open to suggestions. I prepared them for MNRRA, so if you want to use them elsewhere, you should credit the park.

Where to see metro geology, part 3: Coldwater Spring

Picking up from where we left off last time...

Going south from Minnehaha Park on the bike trail network, specifically the Fort Snelling State Trail, we encounter Coldwater Spring. Coldwater Spring, also known as Camp Coldwater, is a small parcel situated between property of Minnehaha Park, Fort Snelling State Park, the Veterans Hospital, and other landowners (there's actually a number of small land parcels in this area, but this is a paleontology and geology blog, not a land ownership blog. If you're curious, there's a map here, with Coldwater as #8, Department of the Interior). The site is currently owned by the National Park Service as the only part of Mississippi National River and Recreation Area that is not an island. Before that, it hosted a Bureau of Mines complex. The complex was vacated during the 1990s after the bureau was closed by Congress, but the buildings still stood until 2011. In fact, if you are using the older version of Google Maps, the buildings reappear when you've zoomed in far enough to transition from flat to 45 degrees. All that's left of the complex today is a few chunks of foundation and the concrete ore storage bins. Before the Bureau of Mines, the titular spring was used by Fort Snelling, taking over what had been a squatter's camp in the 1820s and 1830s. Going back before the Fort, we get into the tribal period of use. The spring is in the Platteville Formation, which is not surprising given that the different members of the formation can promote spring outflows at the contacts (water flows through one member, then runs into another member which isn't as permeable).

Fossils in the St. Peter Sandstone

The St. Peter Sandstone, a Middle–Late Ordovician unit that deserves the appellation "sandstone" like few other formations, has proven itself a very useful formation. Its extremely pure quartz sand is prized for various industrial applications, like glassmaking. It is readily excavated, so digging sewers and burying utilities is simplified. It has a tendency to form caves, which coupled with the ease of excavating makes it an ideal substrate for underground storage, cheese aging, mushroom growing, some types of brewing, and so on. More frivolously, it has provided a vast natural canvas for people who like to carve their names in things, and it has rewarded generations of graduate students looking for thesis and dissertation topics. At 100+ feet (30 m+) of uniform sand with few apparent bedding structures, and an off-white color that weathers to a kind of sickly gray, it is also an excellent natural soporific if you are not interested in any of these things. This most useful of formations is very much a bust paleontologically, which seems like some kind of a metaphor, but I'm not going to push things.

Practical guide to MNRRA/metro-area bedrock geology

I can't believe I didn't put up a post like this earlier. Here is a thumbnail guide to the various bedrock formations exposed within MNRRA and, by extension, most of the Twin Cities metro. Further information can be found in Ojakangas and Matsch (1982) or Ojakangas (2009), if you'd prefer a nontechnical level of discourse, or Mossler (2008) if you want a technical overview. The maps published by Mossler and Tipping (2000) and Mossler (2013) (see previous post) are also useful.

The formations of interest are the Jordan Sandstone, Prairie du Chien Group, St. Peter Sandstone, Glenwood Formation, Platteville Formation, Decorah Shale, and Cummingsville Formation. We'll take it from the top, or rather, the bottom, going in ascending order from the oldest rocks that are exposed (the Jordan Sandstone; there are older rocks below it, but they aren't exposed within MNRRA or in the central Metro. You can find most of them along the St. Croix, though).

Mississippi National River and Recreation Area

One more bit of exposition...

The loving attention of generations of continental glaciers has covered most of the metro area with copious glacial drift. There are plenty of stories here for future posts, but for now I'll just make the observation that because of this, if you want to find bedrock outcrops in the Twin Cities, you need to find places where the glacial deposits have been cleared out. The best places for this are along the Mississippi River.

Many of you are familiar with Mississippi National River and Recreation Area, also known as MNRRA ("Minn-Ra") or MISS. MNRRA cuts a narrow strip from Riverside Park in Anoka County to Hastings, 72 miles (116 km) long. The National Park Service does not own most of the land within the boundaries; instead, MNRRA is a partnership park, in which the Park Service works in concert with a number of different landowners. State, county, city, business, educational, and any number of private entities are found within the river corridor. At this time, the acreage owned by the NPS includes some islands and the Coldwater Spring parcel between Minnehaha Park and Fort Snelling State Park. The river bluffs within MNRRA are the best places in the Twin Cities to observe the rocks and fossils of the metro. Of course, right now is not the best time to visit, but you can still stop by the Visitor Center in the lobby of the Science Museum of Minnesota. Many of the sites in the map (below) are of interest for geology and paleontology, and will be covered at some point. The site I have in mind for the next entry, though, is a bit outside...