Titanotheres, part III

Baby Emma at the beginning of her first move in 2009

Dad and Mom had been kept in storage for just over a year, because there was no place to put them. The baby brontothere, however, was newborn-brontothere-sized, small enough to move to the museum until the new building was ready. And so we did that, partly to protect her and partly to act as a spokesmodel for the new building plans.

The students were able to pick her up, load her into a truck, and carefully drive her to the museum. We did get a few phone calls from concerned citizens wondering just what kind of animal our students were driving around campus. At least one person flatly refused to believe that it was not alive and was strongly suggesting that we were mistreating livestock. I consider that another tribute, however inadvertent, to Blaschke's genius.

The baby is readied for moving.

 

Michelle and Red steady the baby on the freight elevator.

The baby is in the museum, ready to be lifted into the exhibit area.

We held a naming contest for the baby, open to school children in the area, complete with a coloring contest. The winning entry was "Emma," selected by three young ladies independently of each other. We kept promising people that Emma would be reunited with her parents when the new building was ready. We hoped that this would be done someday. When the day arrived, however, it was a little emotional on the museum floor when Emma left.

When Mom and Dad were in place, the crew picked up Emma at the museum and brought her over. 15 minutes after she was picked up, the reunion was complete.

Emma is taken off the freight elevator under Red's guidance, less than a year after the last time she was on it.

The forklift is maneuvered carefully under Emma.

Michelle leads Emma's entourage.

Emma enters the building. She never had to leave the forklift and rode serenely like a princess all the way.

The family is reunited, as we promised, as we hoped.

A huge sigh of relief can be heard even now, as all the equipment is gone and the Blaschke brontotheres are in place. Now comes the diorama work. Come see them in September! 

Titanotheres, part II

Meanwhile, back at the flatbed, Mom Brotothere is waiting patiently...

Moving Dad took a couple of hours. The crew who did this was absolutely magnificent. There was not a wrong or wasted motion, and at no time was he at undue risk. They are used to moving boilers amd machine-shop equipment, so I hope that this was a fun change of pace for them. Still, Dad is very tall, top-heavy, and not level on his feet by any means. It took a while to get him in position, safe and stable.

Mom was a much more calm and cooperative individual. Her only issue is that she is lying down and, er, a bit wide. There were concerns about fitting her through the door, which turned out to be groundless. 45 minutes after leaving the flatbed, she was in place.

Mom starts her forklift ride to the building.

Mom approaches, also with protection strips for her eyes.

Mom enters the atrium.

Mom is on the forklift for the last time. The paint chipping occurred some time ago, but we agreed to hold off on the repairs and infills until the move was complete. That has now been done.  

Mom is up at ledge level.

Reunited on the ledge.

To be continued.....

Titanotheres, part I

Second-story ledge in the new building, clear for the last time

It's been an incredible couple of weeks in the move to the new building. Last week we stopped moving and started polishing, preening and primping things up for the all-class alumni reunion held every 5 years. You can read more about this event here. Over 500 alumni converged on the new building to see what we had accomplished in the past year. Some of them knew that the building was in the works, but many who did not were drawn up the hill by the sight of...

...this. Look carefully at the building windows and you will see creatures on the ledge. Photo by the Rapid City Journal.

Meet the Blaschke brontothere family, donated to us by the Field Museum last year and carefully kept in storage until now. They will be formally unveiled in a new diorama setting next month, on a ledge over our front door. These are life-sized plaster sculptures, incredibly lifelike, made for the Field in 1931.

Frederick Blaschke poses with the family.

Titanotheres, or brontotheres, were rhinoceros-like mammals (NOT dinosaurs) found in many places, including what is now the White River Badlands area of the Northern Plains. Their fossils have been found in some abundance in South Dakota. In fact, the first fossil collected from the Badlands area is the lower jaw of a titanothere, found by Hiram Prout in 1839 and now housed in the Department of Paleobiology, National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution.

Hiram Prout's find

Needless to say, what we find are (sometimes) beautifully preserved bones, not whole animals. Part of the science of paleontology is determining, insofar as possible, what creatures our fossils belonged to and what they may have looked like in life. We look at the closest possible modern analogues (in this case, rhinoceroses) and draw what conclusions we can. It is always an incomplete science, with a great deal of inferential reasoning and detective work thrown in. It's like CSI: Cenozoic.

So Blaschke started with what is known....

Brontops robustus, our museum mascot

...and filled in the gaps, magnificently. His works stood behind glass at the Field for the next 70+ years. Darren Naish has great posts about brontotheres here and here.

Times change. The Blaschke brontothere diorama at the Field Museum fell victim to changing tastes and demands. The plan called for them to be removed. Through a chain of wonderful contacts, we were put in touch with the Field and assured them that we would put these marvels on exhibit here, close to the fossils and original stomping grounds of the beasts on which they were modelled. Their sheer size made it impossible to put any of them other than the baby on display in the museum, so they were kept in storage until a suitable place was readied.

Months passed. The building rose. The ledge was modified to accommodate their sheer size. More months passed.

A couple of weeks ago, the big move occurred. Knuckles and hair whitened, hearts palpitated and nerves shot off in all directions like Philadelphia fireworks. The move required a flatbed truck, a small forklift, and piano dollies, which I have been ordered to stop calling oversized roller skates. We closed the building and perimeter because there were so many things that could go wrong in spite of great planning and care. A few of us were allowed to be there with cameras. It turned out to be a wonderful show. No brontotheres were harmed in this move, though a few paleontologists needed restoratives when all was done.

Q: How do you get a 9+' tall sculpture into your shiny new building? A: Take off every door that you possibly can, even though you just put them on.

Dad and Mom Brontothere, aka Fred and Ginger or Levi and Beth, on the flatbed at the end of the parking lot. You can see the guys under them for scale.

Backing up to the new building.

Dad is on the forklift.

Dad approaches the building. I would not want something this size to be facing me this closely in real life, let alone moving toward me, even at this pace.

A closeup to show the incredible detail of the plaster. The strips are protecting his eyes. Blaschke omitted no detail, not even the tiniest--these are rhinoceros taxidermy glass eyes.

Dad enters the atrium on roller skates piano dollies.

Dad is pivoted in place for the final forklift ride.

The forklift approaches.

Dad rises slowly and majestically.

Dad keeps rising. For all of our worries, this turned out to be a problem- and drama-free production.

Dad reaches the ledge and is roller-skated into his final position.This may have been the most unnerving moment of all.  

To be continued.....