Mineral specimen mortality

Once in a while we encountered crevices large enough to put your hand into between the breccia blocks. Some of these cracks contained free-floating flattened stars of atacamite that had apparently been loosely attached to the rock during growth and had then fallen free. These were usually thin enough that you could shine a light through them and see a beautiful green color. Most of them, however, existed only as fragments because of their delicate nature. I reached into one such crack, gently felt around, and found something loose. With my eyes closed, working only by feel, with a feather-light touch, I determined the dimensions of a wafer thin something. Holding my breath, I ever so slowly drew out a flawless green glowing, sparkling round star of atacamite about two inches across. It had been lying in its dark resting place for who knows how many thousands of years. I reverently wrapped it in my only handkerchief and placed it in the front pocket of my shirt. About 15 minutes later I was walking down a tunnel, hot with sweat running into my eyes. I whipped the handkerchief out of my front pocket to mop my face. The atacamite star flipped into the air in front of my face, pinwheeled gracefully as if in slow motion, while I stood frozen, and smashed to bits on a steel rail on the tunnel floor.

DEATH BY PETTING

Cyanotrichite is an incredibly delicate, but beautiful blue mineral that is rarely collected or preserved in an undamaged state. The crystals from the Grandview mine in the Grand Canyon, Arizona, form in small balls or carpets of radiating millimeter-size blue crystals that absolutely cannot be touched by fingers or any kind of wrapping material. From the moment they are collected the specimens must be handled only in those places that do not show crystals and must be wrapped in the same fashion. In practice that means that the specimens must be wrapped in toilet paper around the sides and bottom, and that these are nestled closely to others of their kind in a box which has a lid high enough and strong enough that it will keep anything from touching the crystals. The box must then be kept so that the tops of the specimens always remain upright and carried up several miles of rough trails to the canyon rim. If at any time the box is dropped or jolted strongly enough to make the tops of the specimens touch the top of the box, the specimens will be damaged.

About 25 years ago a friend of ours, Bob Pedersen, collected what was probably the finest specimen of cyanotrichite ever produced at that mine and carried it carefully home. It was one of the bragging rocks of his collection. One day he opened the cabinet drawer in which it was stored and found that it had been "petted." Down through the center of the pristine field of fine blue crystals was a depressed furrow of matted-down crystals. Some unknowledgeable person had obviously been irresistibly drawn to its beauty and had wanted to see if the specimen felt as soft and plush as it looked.

Our primate ancestors were fur-covered, and groomed each other in a nurturing way that was healthful and pleasant for both participants. We still retain this instinct, and love to pet soft fur. Stroking a dog actually lowers our blood pressure, even though the dog (who lacks the same kind of tactile instinct) doesn't always understand our impulse. Consequently we have an urge to stroke anything which looks soft and furry; sadly, this includes a wide range of acicular minerals which do not spring back like real fur. This human impulse is a constant danger to furry-acicular minerals.