21 LIFE GOES ON

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    IT ISN’T EASY to bee a fossil. The fate of nearly all living anisms—over 99.9pert of them—is to post down to nothingness. When your spark is gone, everymolecule you own will be nibbled off you or sluiced away to be put to use in some othersystem. That’s just the way it is. Even if you make it into the small pool anisms, the lessthan 0.1 pert, that don’t get devoured, the ces of being fossilized are very small.

    In order to bee a fossil, several things must happen. First, you must die in the rightplace. Only about 15 pert of rocks  preserve fossils, so it’s no good keeling over on afuture site of granite. In practical terms the deceased must bee buried in sediment, whereit  leave an impression, like a leaf i mud, or depose without exposure to oxygeting the molecules in its bones and hard parts (and very occasionally softer parts) to bereplaced by dissolved minerals, creating a petrified copy of the inal. Then as thesediments in which the fossil lies are carelessly pressed and folded and pushed about byEarth’s processes, the fossil must somehow maintain aifiable shape. Finally, but aboveall, after tens of millions or perhaps hundreds of millions of years hidden away, it must befound and reized as something worth keeping.

    Only about one bone in a billion, it is thought, ever bees fossilized. If that is so, itmeans that the plete fossil legacy of all the Ameris alive today—that’s 270 millionpeople with 206 bones each—will only be about fifty bones, one quarter of a pleteskeleton. That’s not to say of course that any of these bones will actually be found. Bearing inmind that they  be buried anywhere within an area of slightly over 3.6 million squaremiles, little of which will ever be turned over, much less examined, it would be something ofa miracle if they were. Fossils are in every sense vanishingly rare. Most of what has lived oh has left behind no record at all. It has beeimated that less than one species ihousand has made it into the fossil record. That in itself is a stunningly infinitesimalproportion. However, if you accept the oimate that the Earth has produced 30billion species of creature in its time and Richard Leakey and Roger Lewin’s statement (inThe Sixth Extin ) that there are 250,000 species of creature in the fossil record, thatreduces the proportion to just one in 120,000. Either way, what we possess is the merestsampling of all the life that Earth has spawned.

    Moreover, the record we do have is hopelessly skewed. Most land animals, of course, don’tdie in sediments. They drop in the open and are eaten or left to rot or weather down tonothing. The fossil record sequently is almost absurdly biased in favor of marine creatures.

    About 95 pert of all the fossils we possess are of animals that once lived under water,mostly in shallow seas.

    I mention all this to explain why on a gray day in February I went to the Natural HistoryMuseum in London to meet a cheerful, vaguely rumpled, very likeable paleontologist namedRichard Fortey.

    Fortey knows an awful lot about an awful lot. He is the author of a wry, splendid bookcalled Life: An Unauthorised Biography, which covers the whole pageant of animate creation.

    But his first love is a type of marine creature called trilobites that oeemed in Ordoviseas but haveed for a long time except in fossilized form. All shared a basic body planof three parts, or lobes—head, tail, thorax—from whies the name. Fortey found hisfirst when he was a boy clambering over rocks at St. David’s Bay in Wales. He was hookedfor life.

    He took me to a gallery of tall metal cupboards. Each cupboard was filled with shallowdrawers, and each drawer was filled with stony trilobites—twenty thousand spes in all.

    “It seems like a big number,” he agreed, “but you have to remember that millions uponmillions of trilobites lived for millions upon millions of years in a seas, so twentythousand isn’t a huge number. And most of these are only partial spes. Finding aplete trilobite fossil is still a big moment for a paleontologist.”

    Trilobites first appeared—fully formed, seemingly from nowhere—about 540 million yearsago, he start of the great outburst of plex life popularly known as the Cambrianexplosion, and then vanished, along with a great deal else, in the great and still mysteriousPermiain 300,000 or so turies later. As with all extinct creatures, there is anatural temptation tard them as failures, but in fact they were among the most successfulanimals ever to live. Their reign ran for 300 million years—twice the span of dinosaurs,which were themselves one of history’s great survivors. Humans, Fortey points out, havesurvived so far for one-half of 1 pert as long.

    With so much time at their disposal, the trilobites proliferated prodigiously. Most remainedsmall, about the size of moderles, but some grew to be as big as platters. Altogetherthey formed at least five thousand genera and sixty thousand species—though more turn upall the time. Fortey had retly been at a feren South America where he roached by an academi a small provincial uy in Argentina. “Sh<mark></mark>e had a boxthat was full of iing things—trilobites that had never been seen before in SouthAmerica, or indeed anywhere, and a great deal else. She had no research facilities to studythem and no funds to look for more. Huge parts of the world are still unexplored.”

    “In terms of trilobites?”

    “No, in terms of everything.”

    Throughout the eenth tury, trilobites were almost the only known forms of earlyplex life, and for that reason were assiduously collected and studied. The big mysteryabout them was their sudden appearance. Even now, as Fortey says, it  be startling to go tothe right formation of rocks and to work your ward through the eons finding no visiblelife at all, and then suddenly “a whole Profallotaspis or Elenellus as big as a crab will popinto your waiting hands.” These were creatures with limbs, gills, nervous systems, probingantennae, “a brain of sorts,” in Fortey’s words, and the stra eyes ever seen. Made ofcalcite rods, the same stuff that forms limestohey stituted the earliest visual systemsknown. More than this, the earliest trilobites didn’t sist of just ouresome speciesbut dozens, and didn’t appear in one or two locations but all over. Many thinking people inthe eenth tury saw this as proof of God’s handiwork aation of Darwin’sevolutionary ideals. If evolution proceeded slowly, they asked, then how did he at forthis sudden appearance of plex, fully formed creatures? The fact is, he couldn’t.

    And so matters seemed destio remain forever until one day in 1909, three months shyof the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of Darwin’s On the in of Species , when apaleontologist named Charles Doolittle Walade araordinary find in the adianRockies.

    Walcott was born in 1850 and grew up near Utiew York, in a family of modest means,which became more modest still with the suddeh of his father when Walcott was aninfant. As a boy Walcott discovered that he had a knack for finding fossils, particularlytrilobites, and built up a colle of suffit distin that it was bought by LouisAgassiz for his museum at Harvard for a small fortune—about $70,000 in today’s money.

    Although he had barely a high school education and was self taught in the sces, Walcottbecame a leading authority on trilobites and was the first person to establish that trilobiteswere arthropods, the group that includes modern is and crustas.

    In 1879 he took a job as a field researcher with the newly formed Uates GeologicalSurvey and served with such distin that within fifteen years he had risen to be its head. In1907 he ointed secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, where he remained until hisdeath in 1927. Despite his administrative obligations, he tio do fieldwork and towrite prolifically. “His books fill a library shelf,” acc to Fortey. Not ially, hewas also a founding director of the National Advisory ittee for Aeronautics, whicheventually became the National Aeronautid Space Agency, or NASA, and thus rightly be sidered the grandfather of the space age.

    But what he is remembered for now is an astute but lucky find in British bia, highabove the little town of Field, ie summer of 1909. The ary version of the storyis that Walcott, apanied by his wife, was riding on horseba a mountain trail behe spot called the Burgess Ridge when his wife’s horse slipped on loose stones. Dismountingto assist her, Walcott discovered that the horse had turned a slab of shale that tained fossilcrustas of an especially a and unusual type. Snow was falling—winter es earlyto the adian Rockies—so they didn’t linger, but the  year at the first opportunityWalcott returo the spot. Trag the presumed route of the rocks’ slide, he climbed 750feet to he mountain’s summit. There, 8,000 feet above sea level, he found a shaleoutcrop, about the length of a city block, taining an unrivaled array of fossils from soohe moment when plex life burst forth in dazzling profusion—the famous Cambrianexplosion. Walcott had found, in effect, the holy grail of paleontology. The outcrop becameknown as the Burgess Shale, and for a long time it provided “our sole vista upon the iionof modern life in all its fullness,” as the late Stephen Jay Gould recorded in his popular bookWonderful Life .

    Gould, ever scrupulous, discovered from reading Walcott’s diaries that the story of theBurgess Shale’s discovery appears to have been somewhat embroidered—Walakes ion of a slipping horse or falling snow—but there is no disputing that it was araordinary find.

    It is almost impossible for us whose time oh is limited to a breezy few decades toappreciate how remote in time from us the Cambrian outburst was. If you could fly backwardsinto the past at the rate of one year per sed, it would take you about half an hour to reachthe time of Christ, and a little over three weeks to get back to the beginnings of human life.

    But it would take you twenty years to reach the dawn of the Cambrian period. It was, in otherwords, aremely long time ago, and the world was a very different place.

    For ohing, 500-million-plus years ago when the Burgess Shale was formed it wasn’t atthe top of a mountain but at the foot of one. Specifically it was a shallow o basin at thebottom of a steep cliff. The seas of that time teemed with life, but normally the animals left norecord because they were soft-bodied and decayed upon dying. But at Burgess the cliffcollapsed, and the creatures below, entombed in a mudslide, were pressed like flowers in abook, their features preserved in wondrous detail.

    In annual summer trips from 1910 to 1925 (by which time he was seventy-five years old),Walcott excavated tens of thousands of spes (Gould says 80,000; the normallyunimpeachable fact checkers of National Geraphic say 60,000), which he brought back toWashington for further study. In both sheer numbers and diversity the colle aralleled. Some of the Burgess fossils had shells; many others did not. Some were sighted,others blind. The variety was enormous, sisting of 140 species by one t. “The BurgessShale included a range of disparity in anatomical designs never again equaled, and notmatched today by all the creatures in the world’s os,” Gould wrote.

    Unfortunately, acc to Gould, Walcott failed to dis the significe of what hehad found. “Snatg defeat from the jaws of victory,” Gould wrote in another work, EightLittle Piggies, “Walcott then proceeded to misinterpret these magnifit fossils in the deepestpossible way.” He placed them into mroups, making them aral to today’s worms,jellyfish, and other creatures, and thus failed to appreciate their distiness. “Under suinterpretation,” Gould sighed, “life began in primordial simplicity and moved inexorably,predictably onward to more aer.”

    Walcott died in 1927 and the Burgess fossils were largely fotten. For nearly half atury they stayed shut away in drawers in the Ameri Museum of Natural History inWashington, seldom sulted and never questiohen in 1973 a graduate student fromCambridge Uy named Simon way Morris paid a visit to the colle. He wasastonished by what he found. The fossils were far more varied and magnifit than Walcotthad indicated in his writings. In taxonomy the category that describes the basic body plans ofall anisms is the phylum, and here, way Morris cluded, were drawer after drawer ofsuatomical singularities—all amazingly and unatably unreized by the manwho had found them.

    With his supervisor, Harry Whittington, and fellow graduate student Derek Briggs, wayMorris spent the  several years making a systematic revision of the entire colle, andking out oing monograph after another as discovery piled upon discovery. Manyof the creatures employed body plans that were not simply unlike anything seen before orsince, but were bizarrely different. One, Opabinia, had five eyes and a nozzle-like snout withclaws on the end. Another, a disc-shaped being called Peytoia, looked almost ically like apineapple slice. A third had evidently tottered about on rows of stilt-like legs, and was so oddthat they  Halluia. There was so mureized y in the collethat at one point upon opening a new drawer way Morris famously was heard to mutter,“Oh fuot another phylum.”

    The English team’s revisions showed that the Cambrian had been a time of unparalleledinnovation and experimentation in body designs. For almost four billion years life haddawdled along without aable ambitions in the dire of plexity, and thensuddenly, in the space of just five or ten million years, it had created all the basic bodydesigns still ioday. Name a creature, from a ode worm to Cameron Diaz, and theyall use architecture first created in the Cambrian party.

    What was most surprising, however, was that there were so many body designs that hadfailed to make the cut, so to speak, a no desdants. Altogether, acc to Gould, atleast fifteen and perhaps as many as twenty of the Burgess animals beloo nnizedphylum. (The number soon grew in some popular ats to as many as one hundred—farmore than the Cambridge stists ever actually claimed.) “The history of life,” wrote Gould,“is a story of massive removal followed by differentiation within a few surviving stocks, notthe ventional tale of steadily increasing excellence, plexity, and diversity.”

    Evolutionary success, it appeared, was a lottery.

    One creature thatdid mao slip through, a small wormlike being called Pikaiagras, was found to have a primitive spinal n, making it the earliest known aorof all later vertebrates, including us.Pikaia were by no means abundant among the Burgessfossils, so goodness knows how close they may have e to extin. Gould, in a famousquotation, leaves no doubt that he sees our lineal success as a fortunate fluke: “Wind back thetape of life to the early days of the Burgess Shale; let it play again from aical startingpoint, and the ce bees vanishingly small that anything like human intelligence wouldgrace the replay.”

    Gould’s book ublished in 1989 to general critical acclaim and was a great ercialsuccess. What wasn’t generally known was that many stists didn’t agree with Gould’sclusions at all, and that it was all soon to get very ugly. In the text of the Cambrian,“explosion” would soon have more to do with modern tempers than a physiologicalfacts.

    In fact, we now know, plex anisms existed at least a hundred million years beforethe Cambrian. We should have known a whole lot sooner. Nearly forty years after Walade his discovery in ada, oher side of the pla in Australia, a young geologistnamed Reginald Sprigg found something even older and in its way just as remarkable.

    In 1946 Sprigg was a young assistant gover geologist for the state of South Australiawhen he was sent to make a survey of abandoned mines in the Edia Hills of the FlindersRange, an expanse of baking outbae three hundred miles north of Adelaide. The ideawas to see if there were any old mihat might be profitably reworked usieologies, so he wasn’t studying surface rocks at all, still less fossils. But one day whileeating his lunch, Sprigg idly overturned a hunk of sandstone and was surprised—to put itmildly—to see that the rock’s surface was covered in delicate fossils, rather like theimpressions leaves make in mud. These rocks predated the Cambrian explosion. He waslooking at the dawn of visible life.

    Sprigg submitted a paper to Nature , but it was turned down. He read it instead at the annual meeting of the Australian and New Zealand Association for the Adva ofSce, but it failed to find favor with the association’s head, who said the Ediaimprints were merely “fortuitous inanic marking.９９lｉｂ.s”—patterns made by wind or rain ortides, but not living beings. His hopes not yet entirely crushed, Sprigg traveled to London aed his findings to the 1948 Iional Geological gress, but failed to exciteeither i or belief. Finally, for want of a better outlet, he published his findings iransas of the Royal Society of South Australia. Then he quit his gover job andtook up oil exploration.

    Nine  years  later,  in  1957,  a  schoolboy  named John Mason, while walking throughwood Forest in the English Midlands, found a rock with a strange fossil in it, similar toa modern sea pen aly like some of the spes Sprigg had found arying totell everyone about ever sihe schoolboy tur in to a paleontologist at the Uyof Leicester, who identified it at once as Precambrian. Young Mason got his picture in thepapers and was treated as a precocious hero; he still is in many books. The spe wasnamed in his honor Chamia masoni.

    Today some of Sprigg’s inal Edia spes, along with many of the other fifteenhundred spes that have been found throughout the Flinders Range sihat time, be seen in a glass case in an upstairs room of the stout and lovely South Australian Museumin Adelaide, but they don’t attract a great deal of attention. The delicately etched patterns arerather faint and not terri<var></var>bly arresting to the untrained eye. They are mostly small and disc-shaped, with occasional, vague trailing ribbons. Fortey has described them as “soft-bodiedoddities.”

    There is still very little agreement about what these things were or how they lived. Theyhad, as far as  be told, no mouth or anus with which to take in and discharge digestivematerials, and no internal ans with which to process them along the way. “In life,” Forteysays, “most of them probably simply lay upon the surface of the sandy sediment, like soft,structureless and inanimate flatfish.” At their liveliest, they were no more plex thanjellyfish. All the Edia creatures were diploblastic, meaning they were built from twolayers of tissue. With the exception of jellyfish, all animals today are triploblastic.

    Some experts think they weren’t animals at all, but more like plants or fungi. Thedistins between plant and animal are not always clear even now. The modern spongespends its life fixed to a single spot and has no eyes or brain or beati, a is ananimal. “When we go back to the Precambrian the differences between plants and animalswere probably even less clear,” says Fortey. “There isn’t any rule that says you have to bedemonstrably one or the other.”

    Nor is it agreed that the Edia anisms are in any way aral to anything alivetoday (except possibly some jellyfish). Many authorities see them as a kind of failedexperiment, a stab at plexity that didn’t take, possibly because the sluggish Ediaanisms were devoured or outpeted by the lither and more sophisticated animals of theCambrian period.

    “There is nothing closely similar alive today,” Fortey has written. “They are difficult tointerpret as any kind of aors of what was to follow.”

    The feeling was that ultimately they weren’t terribly important to the development of lifeoh. Many authorities believe that there was a mass extermination at the Precambrian–Cambrian boundary and that all the Edia creatures (except the uain jellyfish) failedto move on to the  phase. The real business of plex life, in other words, started withthe Cambrian explosion. That’s how Gould saw it in any case.

    As for the revisions of the Burgess Shale fossils, almost at once people began to questioerpretations and, in particular, Gould’s interpretation of the interpretations. “From thefirst there were a number of stists who doubted the at that Steve Gould hadpresented, however much they admired the manner of its delivery,” Fortey wrote in Life. Thatis putting it mildly.

    “If only Stephen Gould could think as clearly as he writes!” barked the Oxford academicRichard Dawkins in the opening line of a review (in the London Sunday Telegraph) ofWonderful Life. Dawkins aowledged that the book was “unputdownable” and a “literarytour-de-force,” but accused Gould of engaging in a “grandiloquent and near-disingenuous”

    misrepresentation of the facts by suggesting that the Burgess revisions had stuhepaleontological unity. “The view that he is attag—that evolution marchesinexorably toward a pinnacle such as man—has not been believed for 50 years,” Dawkinsfumed.

    Ahat was exactly the clusion to which many general reviewers were drawn.

    One, writing in the New York Times Book Review, cheerfully suggested that as a result ofGould’s book stists “have been throwing out some preceptions that they had notexamined feions. They are, relutly or enthusiastically, accepting the idea thathumans are as mu act of nature as a product of orderly development.”

    But the real heat directed at Gould arose from the belief that many of his clusions weresimply mistaken or carelessly inflated. Writing in the journal Evolution, Dawkins attackedGould’s assertions that “evolution in the Cambrian was a different kind of process fromtoday” and expressed exasperation at Gould’s repeated suggestions that “the Cambrian eriod of evolutionary ‘experiment,’ evolutionary ‘trial and error,’ evolutionary ‘false starts.’ .

    . . It was the fertile time when all the great ‘fual body plans’ were ied.

    Nowadays, evolution just tinkers with old body plans. Ba the Cambrian, new phyla andnew classes arose. Nowadays we only get new species!”

    Noting how often this idea—that there are no new body plans—is picked up, Dawkins says:

    “It is as though a gardener looked at an oak tree and remarked, wly: ‘Isn’t it stra no major new boughs have appeared on this tree for many years? These days, all the newgroears to be at the twig level.’ ”

    “It was a straime,” Fortey says now, “especially when you reflected that this was allabout something that happened five hundred million years ago, but feelings really did runquite high. I joked in one of my books that I felt as if I ought to put a safety helmet on beforewriting about the Cambrian period, but it did actually feel a bit like that.”

    Stra of all was the response of one of the heroes of Wonderful Life, Simon wayMorris, who startled many in the paleontological unity by rounding abruptly on Gouldin a book of his own, The Crucible of Creation. The book treated Gould “with pt, evenloathing,” in Fortey’s words. “I have never entered such spleen in a book by aprofessional,” Fortey wrote later. “The casual reader of The Crucible of Creation, unaware ofthe history, would never gather that the author’s views had once been close to (if not actuallyshared with) Gould’s.”

    When I asked Fortey about it, he said: “Well, it was very strange, quite shog really,because Gould’s portrayal of him had been so flattering. I could only assume that Simon wasembarrassed. You know, sce ges but books are perma, and I suppose he regrettedbeing so irremediably associated with views that he no longer altogether held. There was allthat stuff about ‘oh fuck, another phylum’ and I expect he regretted being famous for that.”

    What happened was that the early Cambrian fossils began to undergo a period of criticalreappraisal. Fortey and Derek Briggs—one of the other principals in Gould’s book—used amethod known as cladistipare the various Burgess fossils. In simple terms, cladistisists anizing anisms on the basis of shared features. Fortey gives as an examplethe idea of paring a shrew and an elephant. If you sidered the elephant’s large size ands<var></var>triking trunk you might clude that it could have little in on with a tiny, sniffingshrew. But if you pared both of them with a lizard, you would see that the elephant andshrew were in fact built to much the same plan. In essence, what Fortey is saying is thatGould saw elephants and shrews where they saw mammals. The Burgess creatures, theybelieved, weren’t as strange and various as they appeared at first sight. “They were often ner than trilobites,” Fortey says now. “It is just that we have had a tury or so to getused to trilobites. Familiarity, you know, breeds familiarity.”

    This wasn’t, I should note, because of sloppiness or iion. Interpreting the forms aionships of a animals on the basis of often distorted and fragmentary evidence isclearly a tricky business. Edward O. Wilson has hat if you took selected species ofmodern is and presehem as Burgess-style fossils nobody would ever guess that theywere all from the same phylum, so different are their body plans. Also instrumental in helpingrevisiohe discoveries of two further early Cambrian sites, one in Greenland and onein a, plus more scattered finds, which between them yielded many additional and ofteer spes.

    The upshot is that the Burgess fossils were found to be not so different after all.

    Halluia, it turned out, had been restructed upside down. Its stilt-like legs wereactually spikes along its back. Peytoia, the weird creature that looked like a pineapple slice,was found to be not a distinct creature but merely part of a larger animal called Anomalocaris.

    Many of the Burgess spes have now been assigo living phyla—just where Walcottput them in the first place. Halluia and some others are thought to be related toOnychophora, a group of caterpillar-like animals. Others have been reclassified as precursorsof the modern annelids. In fact, says Fortey, “there are relatively few Cambrian designs thatare wholly novel. More ofteurn out to be just iing elaborations of well-established designs.” As he wrote in his book Life: “None was as strange as a present daybarnacle, nor as grotesque as a queee.”

    So the Burgess Shale spes weren’t so spectacular after all. This made them, as Forteyhas written, “no less iing, or odd, just more explicable.” Their weird body plans werejust a kind of youthful exuberahe evolutionary equivalent, as it were, of spiked hair andtouds. Eventually the forms settled into a staid and stable middle age.

    But that still left the enduring question of where all these animals had e from—howthey had suddenly appeared from out of nowhere.

    Alas, it turns out the Cambrian explosion may not have been quite so explosive as all that.

    The Cambrian animals, it is now thought, were probably there all along, but were just toosmall to see. Once again it was trilobites that provided the clue—in particular that seeminglymystifying appearance of different types of trilobite in widely scattered locations around theglobe, all at more or less the same time.

    On the face of it, the sudden appearance of lots of fully formed but varied creatures wouldseem to enhahe miraculousness of the Cambrian outburst, but in fact it did the opposite.

    It is ohing to have one well-formed creature like a trilobite burst forth in isolation—thatreally is a wonder—but to have many of them, all distinct but clearly related, turning upsimultaneously in the fossil record in places as far apart as a and New York clearlysuggests that we are missing a big part of their history. There could be ner evide they simply had to have a forebear—some grandfather species that started the line in amuch earlier past.

    And the reason we haven’t found these earlier species, it is now thought, is that they weretoo tiny to be preserved. Says Fortey: “It isn’t necessary to be big to be a perfectlyfuning, plex anism. The sea swarms with tiny arthropods today that have left nofossil record.” He cites the little copepod, whiumbers irillions in modern seas andclusters in shoals large enough to turn vast areas of the o black, a our totalknowledge of its ary is a single spe found in the body of an a fossilized fish.

    “The Cambrian explosion, if that’s the word for it, probably was more an increase in sizethan a sudden appearance of new body types,” Fortey says. “And it could have happened quiteswiftly, so in that sense I suppose it was an explosion.” The idea is that just as mammalsbided their time for a hundred million years until the dinosaurs cleared off and then seeminglyburst forth in profusion all over the pla, so too perhaps the arthropods and other triploblastswaited in semimicroscopiity for the dominant Edia anisms to have theirday. Says Fortey: “We know that mammals increased in size quite dramatically after thedinosaurs went—though when I say quite abruptly I of course mean it in a geological sense.

    We’re still talking millions of years.”

    Ially, Reginald Sprigg did eventually get a measure of overdue credit. One of themain early genera, Spriggina, was named in his honor, as were several species, and the wholebecame known as the Edia fauna after the hills through which he had searched. By thistime, however, Sprigg’s fossil-hunting days were long over. After leaving geology he foundeda successful oil pany aually retired to ae in his beloved Flinders Range,where he created a wildlife reserve. He died in 1994 a rich man.

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