Written in Stone: Rocks Don't Scream

In my first year at Acadia University,
I considered majoring in biology.

I quickly abandoned that plan when I observed 
an experiment in my Biology 100 Lab.

Frog Dissection Gone Awry

flickr: dave whittaker  license

My instructor picked up a live frog,

stuck a needle into the base of its skull

and wiggled it around to destroy the frog's brain.
To my horror, the noun pith became an unforgettable verb.

Then he proceeded to dissect the immobilized frog,
so we could observe its beating heart, working lungs,  
and leg muscles contracting with electrical stimulation.

Since frogs can breathe by absorbing oxygen from the air 
through their skin, they remain "alive" after their brains 
have been destroyed and their living physiology can be observed.

The instructor calmly assured us 
that the pithed frog could not feel any pain.

Intellectually I accepted that,
but the revulsion I experienced
ended any thoughts of a biology major for me.

I switched to geology,
because rocks don't scream when you cut them.

A Rock Saw wikimedia 






I never looked back!

I had always been interested in rocks and fossils,
but now I fell in love with geology
because it was Stories Written in Stone:
Stories spanning unfathomable stretches of time
playing out in the past, present, and future.

I learned to read the rocks 
and understand their majestic stories.
I became a wonder-filled traveler in time.

In future Written in Stone posts, 
I hope to share my wonder.

 An Enduring Love

North Mountain Basalts on the Fundy Shore:
They were the first rocks I learned to identify.

Summer 2015

Point Prim, near Digby, Nova Scotia, Canada

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved