Foraging for Fossils

S H E L L, Wyo., Aug. 7, 2000 -- There’s a geologist, a metal worker, aveterinarian, and a computer technician who lives in a traileralmost as snug as his old cubicle.

They come from Louisiana, California — even Germany — and justdown the road.

Their enthusiasm is boundless, though their experience andqualifications are limited. In short, they enjoy getting down onall fours — toothbrush and dental pick in hand — and digging indirt for hours on end. Bone fragments make them giddy; words endingin “saur” evoke downright delirium.

They are kids in a candy store, savoring the sweet taste ofdiscovery. And, like children, their pleasure is divulged in boyishsmiles and delighted giggles.

Part Indiana Jones, a little more like the Nutty Professor, theyare among a smattering of explorers conquering the new West by wayof the old: Grown men trading 9-to-5 jobs and steady salaries todig for fossils in the foothills of Wyoming.

The Ultimate Business VentureThis is no hobby or weekend project. For these entrepreneurs, itis the ultimate business venture in an era of high-stakes stocksand dot-com millionaires — one that unites childhood fantasy andadult ambition.

“If I could make a living doing this,” Bob Simon says with awistful sigh, “that’d be awesome.”

He is squatting on a sandstone hill high above a cattle ranchoutside Shell, a 50-person speck of town in northern Wyoming. Hewears a T-shirt splashed with pastel-colored dinosaurs, a bronzebelt buckle in the shape of an Allosaurus and a baseball cap withthe insignia of his fledgling company, Dinosaur Safaris.

He looks like he cleaned out a Jurassic Park souvenir shop.

Simon, 44, has spent almost half his life — 19 years to beprecise — as an oil and gas geologist for Chevron in New Orleans.He earns a “good salary,” owns a four-bedroom house and commutesregularly to Washington, D.C., where his wife works as anenvironmental health scientist.

Yet Simon is trading security for uncertainty to make a go ofhis dream: leading dinosaur digging expeditions in Wyoming’sMorrison Formation, with rock layers dating back to the Jurassicperiod.

“I’m working two jobs, basically,” he says. “Hopefully, thisthing’ll fly.”

Simon started Dinosaur Safaris in 1998 after his own weeklongdigging vacation to the 80-acre site he now leases. On the thirdday of his trip he hit the jackpot, unearthing an Apatasaurus tibiaand rib.

Simon negotiated a six-year lease with the landowners and, aftera year spent exploring and developing a Web site, he is opening thedig site up to tourists through Aug. 11. A handful have signed upfor one, three or five-day digs costing $90 to $450.

A New Career?If the business takes off, Simon plans to quit his job and spendhis summers in Wyoming, overseeing digs, and winters in Washington,preparing bones. For now he can spare only a few weeks a year atthe site.

When he’s not there, Roger Rousu is. Rousu is the so-calleddirector of field operations for Dinosaur Safaris, although his ownjob description is less fancy: “I just move dirt.”

The longtime owner of a bronze foundry in nearby Cody,52-year-old Rousu now spends his days digging, excavating andmaking cast molds of bones. He stumbled onto the job after meetinganother fossil collector who needed a mold-maker. Eventually he metSimon, who gave him a full-time job and stacks of books to help himlearn what to look for.

On Simon’s most recent visit to the site this summer, Rousuastounded his boss with his latest find — the 22-foot backbone of aplant-eating dinosaur, with more vertebrae still to be uncovered.

“That’s exciting,” Simon says, his eyes widening with pleasureas he knelt down for a closer look. “Finding something like thisis nice — pretty darn nice.”

A satisfied smirk pinching his lips, Simon stood and surveyedhis temporary workplace, raising his arms as if to embrace the landand all its hidden treasures.

“You can see what it’s like out here,” he says. “New Orleansto this? Come on.”

For Simon, New Orleans to Shell would be the fulfillment of afantasy. A few miles south of him, one amateur fossil collectoralready has seen his dream realized. A few miles west, another isstruggling to survive.

In 1993, Burkhard Pohl was on the verge of moving fromSwitzerland to his native Germany to open a veterinary practice.After an eight-week vacation to Wyoming, Pohl returned home andpacked up his wife and two children.

Changes in DirectionOnly instead of heading to Germany, he relocated to Thermopolis — a central Wyoming town of 3,500 people known for its troutfishing, elk hunting, hot springs and, now, dinosaur fossils.

“It is a little bit strange,” admits Pohl, a jocular fellowwith curly hair and a bushy mustache the color of nutmeg, andchubby cheeks to match.

Stranger yet is that this veterinarian from Frankfurt went on tobecome the benefactor of Wyoming’s first facility dedicated toexcavating, preparing and displaying dinosaur bones discoveredwithin the state.

An amateur fossil hunter who had collected the remains of birdsand small mammals, Pohl had never been interested in dinosaursuntil he ventured to Wyoming with friends seven years ago and founddinosaur bones embedded in the mountains of a private ranch inThermopolis.

Pohl purchased the land and, in 1995, opened the WyomingDinosaur Center.

“I made this into a temporary business, and it got permanent,”Pohl, 44, says in a still-thick accent.

Five years later, as director of the center, Pohl oversees a16,000-square-foot complex that includes a museum, working digsites on two main quarries and a preparation laboratory. The centerdraws about 40,000 visitors each year and has a staff of nine.

Among Wyoming’s amateur fossil hunters, Pohl is the proof onecan make it.

At the other end of the spectrum is Bernie Makowski.

A year ago, Makowski was making $8 an hour as a computertechnician in California. Then his wife divorced him, and he losthis job. Makowski sold a target rifle, bought a pickup and atrailer and headed east.

He landed in Cody, on the western edge of Wyoming nearYellowstone National Park, and found work at the Wal-Mart. On theside, as he had done as a hobby since childhood, he scoured thesurrounding hillsides for fossils.

When he found a few marine deposits on ranchland south of Cody,he offered the landowners 10 percent of any profit he earns to gainaccess to 500 acres. Last September, he moved his trailer onto theproperty and began digging full time.

“When I found this I thought, ‘This is my opportunity,“‘ saysMakowski, 45.

Ten months later, he has discovered dozens of bones and fossils,mostly of marine mammals. On one recent weekend, he was hunchedover a hillside working to unearth what he believes is a crocodileskeleton. About a dozen volunteers from local rock clubs pitchedin.

Makowski tried to sell some of his finds to publicly fundedinstitutions for further study, but that’s when he learned animportant lesson in the world of amateur paleontology:Professionals are ethically bound from working with novices whointend to profit off their discoveries.

To date, Makowski has sold nothing. Instead, he lives offdonations, eats cheese sandwiches and pilfers water from hislandlords’ hoses. His trailer is powered by a wind generator hebuilt from a car alternator and plane propeller. Even hiseyeglasses were donated by a local ophthalmologist.

“To be honest,” he says, “I thought I could make a decentamount of money. I didn’t expect to be a millionaire, but I waslooking to have a piece of property, a nice home and a reliablevehicle.”

Not Risk FreeSimon and Pohl agree fossil hunting is a financial risk. Simonhas poured more than $30,000 into his business, and hopes to simplybreak even. Pohl won’t say how much money he sank into the DinosaurCenter but acknowledges the venture was more costly than expected.

And there are other drawbacks. Amateurs are restricted tocollecting on private land, forcing them to negotiate leases withthe landowners. Anyone other than a paleontologist or an educatorcaught collecting fossils on federal lands can face fines.

Then there’s the criticism from professionals who accuse novicesof sacrificing science for money.

Are there big bucks to be made off a big find? Could there be aSue “Tyrannosaurus rex” Hendrickson is this group? Probably not,but these guys say the financial risks, restrictions and ridiculeare worth the thrill of trying.

The Sue fossil was found near Faith, S.D., in 1990. Named afterthe fossil hunter who found it, it is believed to be the largestand most complete T. rex fossil ever found.

“It’s just an amazing feeling when you start opening the groundand you find something that’s never been seen before,” Makowskiexplains. “It’s like coming on a crime scene and taking all theclues and figuring it out. It’s seductive. It’s solving themystery.”