I lifted to the window a nugget of golden Dominican amber entombing a small stingless bee.
The sunlight infused it and illuminated the bee caught forever in flight—gossamer wings outstretched and perfectly preserved down to the last hair. Stark eyes appeared to be gazing at me. I contemplated this lustrous burial chamber and thought how wondrous it would be if we could see what this insect had beheld in its lifetime. Would the vistas of just one day be sufficient to reveal the wonders of life millions of years ago? What was that last fateful day like? And what events had taken place in the eras before this specimen arrived in my hand?
A bee's life
One surmises that the bee was active in the dim light of early morning. She and
her sisters gathered in the busy colony before beginning their various tasks.
The young workers left for the nursery to attend the developing larvae. Older
members flew out into the forest to collect pollen and nectar. The chore
reserved for the aged bees was collecting the sticky resin utilized in nest
construction from algarrobo trees. Our bee was among the resin gatherers. Off
she skimmed with her companions, winding through the shadowy, towering amber
forest, dodging the vines and lianas, avoiding tree trunks where hungry lizards
lurked, and finally landing on the bark of an algarrobo near a large, yellow,
viscous resin flow.
She scanned the surroundings, always on the lookout for hungry, sinister
creatures that lurked in ambush—especially one well-adapted predator, the
resin bug, a large, hairy-legged creature endowed with a huge beak that could
easily penetrate the body and suck out the blood of an unwary bee. The resin
bug's habit of coating the front legs and body parts with resin was repulsive,
though effective in ensnaring prey. Only one swipe of the powerful front legs
could pin the hapless victim long enough for the hypodermic-like beak to rip
through the body wall.
The bee's compound eyes registered a kaleidoscopic image of the resin flow.
Trapped within the vitelline pool lay other small arthropods, plant debris, and
detritus. Not discerning any dreaded enemies, the bee began the painstaking job
of removing small samples of resin with her mouth, coating them with saliva,
and then attaching them to the hind legs in the form of little round balls.
This exercise involved concentration and diligent work to prevent getting
entrapped in the adhesive deposit. Finished at last, she was ready to return to
the colony.
Into a golden tomb
The attack came with lightning speed. Only a hazy brown blur was detected as
the resin bug thrust its front legs toward her. Acting on impulse, she
retreated from the lunging bug, but in her frantic attempt to avoid the
predator she flew directly into the sticky trap. Almost instantly, waves of
thick fluid enveloped her.
A few feeble attempts were all that could be mustered to extricate herself from
that tenacious snare. In spite of valiant efforts, death came in seconds as
viscous liquid seeped over the breathing pores, wrapping a mantle of gold
around its victim. The sun shimmered on the silent insect cradled in the
glistening tomb on the algarrobo trunk. As a gentle breeze wafted through the
leaves, a fine layer of dust drifted over the surface of the elixir. Suspended
in a motionless world, the entombed bee endured, the balls destined for the
hive still attached to her outstretched legs.
Almost immediately, chemical changes began to take place. Sugars in the sap
pulled the moisture from the insect's tissues while other chemicals infiltrated
its cells. Bacteria carried in the gut initiated spore development in response
to the adverse conditions. The next day, the xanthous domain of the bee was
covered by a series of subsequent flows. Changes were also occurring in the
resin itself as exposure to sunlight and oxygen caused the bonds between
molecules to strengthen.
A long journey begins
Days grew into weeks and weeks into months. The tacky mass became harder but
still clung to the bark of the tree. Finally, perhaps during a storm, the
fossilized resin broke loose and came crashing down to the ground, lodging in a
small crevice at the base of the tree. The material was now in the copal stage
and no longer sticky. The chemical processes of polymerization and molecular
cross-bonding would continue over the next few million years or so until the
hardened resin, or copal, acquired the properties of amber.
Suddenly, the sarcophagus was jarred as a hammer cracked open the
rock in which it was inhumed.
Year after year, more debris, leaves, and twigs collected on top of the
hardening copal. Wind, rain, and microorganisms degraded the accumulated plant
litter but had no effect on our entombed bee. Eventually the mighty algarrobo
crashed to the forest floor in a storm and added still another layer to the
detritus covering the fossil.
For millennia all was tranquil. Ultimately a tempest fueled by a hurricane
drove torrential rains across the bee's graveyard, washed away the accumulated
organic matter, and exposed the fossil once again. Along with other fossilized
pieces and plant debris, the specimen was washed by rivulets of floodwaters
into raging streams, transported into a low-lying delta and shrouded with
silt.
A bee in the sea
The sea level began to change and salt water slowly inundated the area,
submerging our entombed bee. Ocean waves dislodged the silt and exposed the
amber. Around the fossil now lived an array of sea creatures. Crabs scampered
over the resin graveyard, fish swam up and nudged amber nuggets, barnacles
selected larger pieces for resting sites, and in heavy storms the fossilized
resin was tumbled repeatedly by the currents. Among the waves dwelled a myriad
of microscopic, shelled animals called foraminifera and coccoliths. When they
died, their minute shells settled to the bottom and, together with bits of
sediment, slowly covered the precious fossil on the seafloor. No longer would a
diffuse light illuminate our bee, not for millions of years.
Meanwhile, the mass of earth containing the amber alluvium drifted farther into
the Carribbean Sea, having already moved from its original position between
North and South America. The advance of this island mass was gradual, and those
that once lived in that extinct silva were indifferent to the earthquakes that
periodically shook the terrain.
Brought to light
Eons passed and the sediment covering the amber now hardened into rock.
Ultimately the strata containing the entombed creatures were subjected to still
another natural force, that of mountain formation. Ponderously, those rocks
that had been forged in the sea were elevated above the water. In some areas,
the layers shifted and fractured, sometimes crazing the piece within. The bee
was fortunate to be in a section of rock that was uplifted in its entirety.
Towering skyward, the strata were folded into mountains. The upper boundaries,
whose history could be told by the marine microorganisms in their matrices,
were worn by the wind, washed by the rain, and eventually transformed into
soil. Ultimately another forest became established, sending its roots down into
the new loam that covered the bejeweled rocks, one quite dissimilar from the
original forests.
One day, the silent graveyard, now lodged in a layer of marine rocks in the
mountains of the northern Dominican Republic, was disturbed by some minor shock
waves. These jolts continued for several days, eventually becoming more
intense. The sediment containing the amber had been discovered and was being
laboriously removed.
Suddenly,
the sarcophagus was jarred as a hammer cracked open the rock in which it was
inhumed. Together with other pieces that had been dislodged from the rock, the
bee and its tomb toppled to the floor of the mine. In the flickering
candlelight, she was picked up and placed into a bag. Later, the day's take was
sorted on a rickety wooden table where dark eyes scrutinized each piece
intently, selecting those with fossils to be polished and sold and thereby
continuing the process that brought this bee to my collection.
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This stingless bee had already collected resin from
the algarrobo tree and secured it on its hind legs before it somehow got
entombed, beginning an epochal journey.
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Like a creature out of a horror film, a resin bug
looms over its intended victim, a stingless bee. In the end, both succumbed to
the sticky resin.
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A miner gazes into the inky
depths of a Dominican amber mine, where the lighted candles of two fellow
miners are the only things visible.
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