The exhibit shows the tradition of natural history that Darwin came from. His theory of natural selection was based on years of careful study of different kinds of animals – he knew more than anyone about barnacles, for example, and of course there were his famous Galápagos finches. Natural history is a darn good way to learn about nature.

Most of the displays were illustrations from books back to the 15th century. Back then, people were sort of conflicted between relying on classical texts – it was the Renaissance, they were really into that stuff – and observing plants and animals in nature.Some of the pictures had clearly been done by people who had never seen the animal in question, and the texts often came from the ancient Greeks. But eventually they started figuring out that they should actually be observing the animals they were writing about. (Whoa! Crazy talk!)

This adorable hedgehog was in a 1551 book, Historia Animalium:

Isn’t it spunky? (The label says “bristling with charm.”)

Here are some copepods from a book published in 1820 in Geneva. Copepods are teeny crustaceans – relatives of crabs and shrimp.

I was excited to see these guys because I saw a lot of copepods in the Bering Sea last spring. I wrote stories about copepods on at least four days, but see this day for some really nice copepod portraits. (My fingers got really, really cold while Chris was taking the pictures of the glow-in-the-dark copepods, so be sure to go appreciate the beauty.)

This Portuguese Man O’ War was collected in the deep sea in the 1820s.

That is one pretty jellyfish.

From a book published around 1860, a gorilla:

The gorilla was only scientifically described in 1847. Doesn’t that seem late? I mean, gorillas are really big! And that scientific description was just based on bones; apparently no Westerner saw a live gorilla until the 1850s. Chimps and orangutans were already pretty well known by then. (You can read a little gorilla history in this 1988 newsletter – it’s the first story.)

The library had a copy of On the Origin of Species on display, but I failed to take a picture of it because, um, it was just words, see. There were no pretty pictures of animals. Oops.

So, instead, I will leave you with a picture of my best Scrabble play ever, that night at my aunt and uncle’s house:

I played “EQUINELY” for 239 points. This was made possible by two factors: (1) my uncle doesn’t play defensively, so he put that Q right up there by that triple word score, and (2) in our rules, you can look up words before you play them. I wouldn’t have taken a chance on “equinely” if this had been a challenge game, but I thought it might be a word, and I checked the scrabble dictionary, and it was. Woo. Hoo.

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photos: me, and they aren’t that good, are they? books behind glass. kind of a rough subject.

In olden times (the Cretaceous, if you want to get technical – late in the dinosaur times), Kansas was underwater. The west coast and the eastern U.S. were separated by the Western Interior Sea. I love that it has a name, even if it isn’t a very poetic name – like it’s got a name waiting for it, in case the Rockies decide to go back down.

All that water means Kansas is rich in fossils of wacky sea creatures like this guy:

He’s a Xiphactinus molossus, a kind of bony fish. Doesn’t he look mean?

Also awesome: crinoids.

Crinoids are echinoderms, relatives of starfish and sea urchins that leave behind a lot of hard bits. They make beautiful fossils (a couple of these have been colored to show you what you’re looking at.) There are actually still crinoids, but they’re not nearly as diverse as they used to be.

One of the prized possessions of the museum is Comanche the horse. Dead horse! In a glass case!

Comanche survived the Battle of Little Bighorn in 1876, with several arrow and bullet wounds. After he recovered, he became a mascot for the Seventh Cavalry. He did parades and wandered around Fort Riley, about 100 miles west of Lawrence. When he died in 1891, he was sent off to the University of Kansas to be preserved. In 1893 he – or his skin, anyway – helped represent Kansas at the Chicago World’s Fair.

Here’s a great slide show on his restoration a few years ago. They had to build a full-size model to make sure he’d make the corners on the way to his new exhibit space. I love the pictures of him wrapped in plastic for the move. His head’s sticking out, which is reassuring – you wouldn’t want the dead horse to suffocate.

My dad remembered going to the museum on Cub Scout outings to see the snakes. I checked and, yep, they’ve still got snakes. (Probably not the same snakes as in 1950. No word if Cub Scouts still come look at them, but I can’t imagine they’d miss the chance.) They have fifteen species that are found in Kansas, each in its own cheerfully painted case.

I feel like the common garter snake, at right, got the nicest room. All those cheerful Kansas sunflowers.

The cottonmouth seemed particularly mean.

For one thing, it’s got the triangular head that screams, “I AM VENOMOUS.” Also, there were little furry gray things floating in the water that looked a heck of a lot like bits of mouse. I thought snakes swallowed their food whole, but I don’t know, maybe that one put up a fight.

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photos: me, of course

photo: me, 2008

At the time I left for Germany last July, I owned three German dictionaries. One I got in 1990 when I took my first German class, one random paperback of unknown provenance, and a big desk dictionary I got a few years ago when I was taking another German class and learning big words. And I had access to another – my dad has a tiny pocket one from, oh, probably the 1960s or so.

Any of these would have been excellent choices to take along. So which of these dictionaries did I take with me for two months in a country where I only kind of speak the language and might benefit from having a dictionary to help me learn new vocabulary?

None of them. That’s right. Not one. I think I figured I would just use the online dictionary Leo. Because my fantasy version of Berlin apparently has free wi-fi raining from the sky and little elf helpers who walk around carrying your computer for you.

I got to Germany and quickly realized how dumb I was. Leo was indeed handy at home and at work, but was no darn use at any of the other places I might see or hear German words, like on billboards or in a biergarten or in a book I was reading on the bus. I could have paid for a data plan and used the mobile phone version of Leo, but…it was a lot cheaper to buy a new dictionary. Besides, I clearly don’t own enough dictionaries already.

Berlin is pretty much drowning in foreigners, so the big bookstore I went to had a large English section. Two of the many German-English dictionaries were pocket-sized: a Langenscheidt and an Oxford. (Actual pocket, not Oxford “pocket.”) I picked up the Langenscheidt and opened it to the last page of the K’s. The last entry was “KZ nt <-s, -s> abbr –> Konzentrationslager HIST concentration camp.” That was not an abbreviation I knew, and it seemed useful. I checked the Oxford. It didn’t have KZ, and my mind was made up.

A few weeks later, I took the dictionary along to a concentration camp. Sachsenhausen, just north of Berlin, opened on July 12, 1936. In the beginning it mostly held political prisoners and criminals; later, that expanded to include Jews, Roma, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and others, many of whom were deported east to concentration camps or extermination camps in Poland. (Map.) Until I started visiting these places, I didn’t realize there was a difference between concentration camps and extermination camps. People died in concentration camps. There were executions, epidemics, medical experiments, starvation, torture. Countless prisoners were worked to death in factories. But the extermination camps like Treblinka and Belzec and Sobibor and Auschwitz-Birkenau were different. They were just for killing. (Auschwitz was actually a network of almost 50 camps; Auschwitz II, or Birkenau, had the big gas chambers.)

After the war, Sachsenhausen was in the Soviet occupation zone, and eventually East Germany. The Soviets kept political prisoners there until 1950. Later in the 50s, it was turned into a museum, but with a decidedly communist point of view. A larger-than-life memorial sculpture shows a Red Army soldier standing in solidarity with two prisoners he’s just freed. During the time when the countries were separate, this area was used as a backdrop for rallies. The East German government positioned itself as the true enemy of Nazis. They called the Berlin Wall the “Anti-Fascist Protection Wall.” Keeping those nasty West German fascists out, you see. A concentration camp must have seemed like a good place to talk about how much better they were than the other side.

Dictionary Stats: Langenscheidt Universal German Dictionary

date: 2002
publisher: Langenscheidt
length: 608 pages
dimensions: 4½ by 3¼ by 1¼ inches. Still kind of big for most pockets, but perfect for the purse.
guide words on pp. 196-197: Preiselbeere f cranberry; Pulverschnee m powder snow
obscenities: Yes! Interesting – the other Langenscheidt dictionary I’ve written about, this one, didn’t.  My mother asked why I include this in the dictionary stats, so here’s the reason: I think it’s interesting to see whether or not editors include “bad words.” Is the dictionary reflecting the full range of the language as spoken?

Seventeenth-century Puritans were opposed to using religious imagery (like crosses) on gravestones, so they went for reminders of the limits of mortal life, instead. Yipe. Note the grinning teeth, partly hidden by the leaves.

So, just a friendly reminder: You are going to die. You might want to bookmark this for later.

Here’s an introduction to gravestone iconography, courtesy of the City of Boston.

Boxes of rocks!

(Excuse me: cabinets of minerals. I learned today that a mineral is not a rock; rocks are made up of minerals. I’m still working out this whole geology thing, and I thank the museum people of the world for helping to teach me.)

Also: Cases of birds!

(SO MANY cases of birds. I love birds. Although, I must say, you don’t learn a lot when you just look at a couple hundred birds in a case. Pretty, but…not that informative.)

And also:

South American vertebrates! Thank goodness it’s only selected representatives. There are a lot of vertebrates in South America. (Not to worry – the museum has vertebrates from everywhere else, too.) (There is one black rhinoceros that is crying out for a wealthy alum to fund its retaxidermying, if that is a word, and it should be.)

But by far my favorite room is this one:

Several whale skeletons, a taxidermied giraffe, SO MANY BIRDS, deer, apes – this gallery has a little of everything. It was built in 1872 and restored to its early-20th-century glory a few years ago. It’s not really how people do museums today, but wow, is it beautiful.

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photos: me

When my parents came and visited at the end of my stay, we took a week and went down to poke around Bavaria. Our first stop was Berchtesgaden, a lovely alpine resort town and one of Adolf Hitler’s favorite places. For his 50th birthday, the Nazis built a mountain retreat for him on a crag with 360-degree views. Hitler, according to my guidebook, had vertigo and hated it there.

The building survived – unusual for Nazi sites – and is now a major tourist destination. Buses run up the winding road all day, and there’s a restaurant up top.

The day we went up it was super cloudy and you couldn’t see the views. My dad and I went on a little hike on a trail that climbed up and down the rocks and wound around, with what should have been fantastic views of the alps.

It felt exactly like the beginning of the second Lord of the Rings movie, when Frodo and Sam are trying to find their way through the rocks of Emyn Muil. Spooky.

You can get this and so much more local history at A Fine Collection. The collections manager/curator of the Montgomery County Historical Society – who is also a good friend of mine – posts a different object from their collection every week.

Making butter was an important chore, and is referenced several times a month in Carrie’s diaries. A sample entry: “October 15^th, 1885: Roger & I made 47 ½ lbs Butter this morning. The rest of the day I sewed. M.H. Brooke called in the aft[ernoon].”  Next time you think your day is a little boring or tedious, remind yourself that at least you’re not making 47 pounds of butter (unless that’s your thing, of course).

Neat, huh? I love that she not only has the thing, she has the diary of the person who used it. Yay history.