Tireless tracker rewrote the book on dinosaurs in Maryland

With the coiled energy of a stalking cat, Ray Stanford splashes outof the stream and onto a rocky sandbar, his knee-high, hunter-green boots leaving shallow heel prints that fill with water and begin to melt. Crouched, Stanford scans, head down, wavy silver hair dappled in the sunshine. Birds tweet. Water rustles. It’s 3:30 p.m.; the sun is at mid-angle, throwing good shadows. Stanford picks up a flat slice of pale yellow rock, a rough triangle the size of his hand. He rubs it with his thumb, tilts it this way and that.

“You see that?” he asks. A splayed mark etches the rock’s surface. “It looks like a little three-toed dinosaur was here.”

Video

Self-taught fossil hunter Ray Stanford has found more than 1,400 dinosaur tracks. After discovering his first track in 1994, Stanford still hunts for fossils in the streams of Maryland.

Self-taught fossil hunter Ray Stanford has found more than 1,400 dinosaur tracks. After discovering his first track in 1994, Stanford still hunts for fossils in the streams of Maryland.

Stanford and I have been splashing around for all of two minutes. Already, the dinosaur king of College Park has scored.

A few minutes later, Stanford picks up a bigger slice of brown rock. He thumbs mud out of an impression the length of his index finger. “I can guarantee that’s a toe,” he says. The mark is smeared, indistinct. I’m not sure I believe him.

But Stanford has a special visual talent. He sees things other people don’t.

A week later, Stanford e-mails. After further inspection, he has decided that this seemingly unspectacular find is “a WONDERFUL specimen of a running, turning-left-at-high-speed dromeosaurid footprint.”

Popularly known as velociraptors — and made famous by “Jurassic Park” — these little dromeosaurids darted about on two feet, arms tucked, slender tails bobbing.

Here, in the desultory woods behind a Prince George’s County high school, along a creek bed littered with dented Coors Light cans and bent cafeteria spoons and spent Doritos bags, one of these knee-high speedsters hung a quick left 112 million years ago, during the early Cretaceous era.

It was fleeing a snapping carnivore! It was chasing a fish! Or maybe it was just out for a run.

Stanford’s imagination fills in the blanks. It’s what he does.

***

Wiry, voluble, energetic 73-year-old Ray Stanford could almost pass for a paleontologist. But his hair is a little too short, his beard too trim, his button-down shirt too tucked. And he talks too fast. This Texan is an amateur, although he disdains that term. He’s self-taught, a gentleman naturalist.

And now he’s leading me to the Stanford Museum: his living room. Worried about thieves, Stanford asks me not to disclose the location of the rambling, white, three-story farmhouse, circa 1870, that he shares with his wife, Sheila, who works as an information specialist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt.

In we go, through a dim foyer.

Boom! It’s like a rock quarry exploded, threw up a great whirling cyclone of stone — flat pieces, round ones, some smaller than a coaster, some bigger than a dinner plate, smooth pieces and jagged ones, triangles, rectangles, crazy irregular shapes, dun, gray, tan, ochre, charcoal, splashes of purple and streaks of yellow — and deposited the whole shebang into a great flowing river of rock.

The river bears left from the door, growing higher, overtaking a wooden chair, then up onto the radiator and back behind a big easy chair, sloping into a rampart against the wall, reaching up almost to the window, then across a bookcase and over a floor-standing speaker and further, up onto a shelf, heading for the ceiling in the far corner.

Loading...

Comments

Add your comment
 
Read what others are saying About Badges