From the air, Los Angeles looks nothing like the Northwoods. There’s the grid of roads, the glint of glass, and too little water. But with 841 museums and art galleries in Los Angeles County, it was an ideal location for the American Alliance of Museums (AAM) Annual Meeting. Our tiny little Cable Natural History Museum (CNHM) is accredited by AAM, which means that we achieved and now maintain core standards and best practices for the museum field. That’s a big deal, but still I felt like pretty small potatoes walking into the conference center with CEOs and curators from the most well-known museums in North America and around the world.
And yet, as the CEO of a local cultural center and I helped each other find our way through the maze of registration, our conversation somehow drifted to the mycorrhizal relationships between trees and fungi and how they allow for the sharing of resources and information throughout the forest. We headed in opposite directions after that, but we each felt that the conference was off to a good start.
During a lull in the presentations and networking events, I caught a rideshare to the La Brea Tar Pits and Museum with Rich Jaworski, CNHM director. Here, in southern California, the Ice Age looked different than it did in northern Wisconsin. While the Northwoods were buried under a mile of ice and even the earthworms were wiped out, the La Brea Tar Pits were a hub of big, furry, life.
The La Brea Tar Pits are an odd natural phenomenon that formed after a 6-mile-thick deposit of ocean floor sediment was buried and the algae within it turned into oil. Now pressure forces that crude oil up through bedrock cracks, and it turns into asphalt as kerosene evaporates. Throughout the grassy park surrounding the museum, Rich and I spotted small areas of blackened soil surrounded by fencing where asphalt continues to ooze up.
The much larger Lake Pit caught our attention next. This small pond is surrounded by bulrushes and cattails—and a serious fence—and its dark water churned ominously. Methane gas forms as the algae and other marine organisms continue to break down, and it bubbles to the surface.
The Lake Pit is deep because it was excavated during asphalt mining operations in the late 1800s. Rainwater collects on top of the goo. And three sculptures depict the heartbreaking scene of a family of mammoths becoming trapped in the sticky mire.
Historically, the natural asphalt pools probably weren’t as deep and watery as Lake Pit. Scientists think it would only take a few inches of tar to spell an animal’s doom. The surface might have become camouflaged by dust and leaves, tricking animals into stepping right in. Once a large herbivore like a mammoth was stuck, their plight would have attracted scores of carnivores who also became trapped. Dire wolves are the most common large mammal found in the pits. One entire wall of the museum is covered in dire wolf skulls.
It’s dangerous to compare yourself to others, of course, but I couldn’t help thinking about the Cable Natural History Museum’s thousands of specimens in contrast to La Brea’s millions of bones.
Then, as we continued through the exhibit hall, I noticed a sign that explained how scientists use the teeth of these preserved remains to determine what their owner ate. Flat, grinding molars indicate that they were chewing plants; sharp canines were made to grip meat; and a combination of the two indicate an omnivorous diet. This is exactly what our four naturalists teach second graders in our MuseumMobile programs in schools!
The hooked beaks of several extinct eagles excavated from the pits all looked very similar to the owl skulls we show fourth graders, and are a sure sign of a raptor. Yet another display explained how scientists can use the teeth of saber-toothed cats to determine how old they were. In fifth grade classrooms, we used to do the same thing with the jaw bones of white-tailed deer.
The Cable Natural History Museum may not encompass one of the world's most important paleontological sites, but the science we teach our students could still put them on a path to studying these fossils someday.
And here’s the thing about La Brea—the big animals represented there all went extinct. Meanwhile, descendants of all the plants and many of the small animals found in the pits are still alive today. I’ll take that bit of wisdom home with me.
As the conference continued, I interacted with people from museums of all sizes. Whether in a presentation or just waiting for a session to start, we shared our challenges and talked over solutions. In the furrowing of foreheads and scribbling of notes, I could see resources being shared, ideas taking shape, and relationships being forged.
Whether a network is made of fungi linking trees or shared goals uniting people, connections allow us each to grow just a little bit more than we could have on our own.
Emily’s award-winning second book, Natural Connections: Dreaming of an Elfin Skimmer, is available to purchase at www.cablemuseum.org/books and at your local independent bookstore, too.
For more than 50 years, the Cable Natural History Museum has served to connect you to the Northwoods. Our Summer Calendar is open for registration! Visit our new exhibit, “Becoming the Northwoods: Akiing (A Special Place). Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and cablemuseum.org to see what we are up to.
Last Update: May 14, 2025 6:53 pm CDT
