Ammolite, Photo Courtesy of Dinosty Fossils.
Beneath the Surface: What Touring an Ammolite Mine Teaches Us About Home. Part: 2
Part one covered how ammolite mining works on paper — the split rights, the disposition process, the partnerships that make the industry function. But paper only tells you so much. To really understand it, I sat down with Mark Turner, a working ammolite claim holder, and asked him how all of that plays out on the ground.
When Trust Has to Be Built From Scratch
Not every landowner relationship starts smoothly. Mark told me about one of his claims just outside of town, where getting the conversation started took more than a knock on the door.
"I actually had tried to contact the landowner a few times, but I was unable to get a hold of them," he said. "So, I ended up going and actually talking to my lawyer and his lawyer, and they actually arranged a meeting between us."
That meeting changed everything. Once the landowner understood what the work actually looked like, the tension disappeared.
"He realized that what I was doing was not going to be, you know, out there tearing up his property, ripping up his land — and that it was actually going to be essentially just hand-tool mining on his property for these shells that would otherwise be destroyed by natural erosion."
From there, the relationship became a partnership rather than an arrangement.
"He pretty much gave me the keys to the gates and said, 'Off you go! You find anything really, really cool, give me a shout, tell me, send me a picture just so I can see it.'"
The Process Behind Every Fossil
Part one described the disposition process in outline. Mark walked me through what it actually looks like in the field.
"When I go out on one of my claims and I find an Alberta ammolite ammonite, I actually have to first take pictures of it, send those pictures to the museum, and then I can extract it. But I'm not allowed to work on that fossil until I get that letter back."
That patience has paid off in some remarkable finds.
"I've actually managed to find a few really, really unique vertebra fossils. I've found some fish, I've found pieces of mosasaur, I've donated bits of turtle from certain areas."
For Mark, it isn't paperwork for its own sake — it's part of something bigger.
"Every fossil we find adds a brushstroke to the painting that is the prehistoric life on our planet. If we're able to essentially show this canvas to the public, that is something huge."
Maps That Protect What Can't Be Replaced
Even with a legal claim, not every square metre is open to mining. Miners are handed specific maps marking areas with historical significance that stay untouched.
"We actually do get sent maps of specific historic areas where we're not allowed to dig within our claims," Mark explained. "And if you go on the internet, there's actually something called the ammolite shell map — the GeoDiscover Alberta ammolite shell is what it's called."
It's a small detail, but it says a lot: the protection built into Alberta's Historical Resources Act isn't just a legal formality — it's a literal map handed to every claim holder before they pick up a tool.
A Partnership Older Than the Industry
Some of the most cooperative relationships in ammolite mining exist between claim holders and local First Nations.
"The local First Nations have permitted miners that are legally allowed to go out and search for Alberta ammolite ammonites on the reservation side of the river," Mark said. "They're able to buy, sell, and trade either the raw material, the finished product, or anything they might find in their exploits to miners, to people, to the community."
He didn't hesitate when I asked what that meant to him.
"There's not this, 'Oh, this is mine, this is yours.' This is something that belongs to everybody, which I think is extremely unique."
What Stuck With Me
Standing in that mine in part one, I understood the what — the rock, the layers, the legal framework. Talking with Mark, I understood the how: a landowner who had to be won over one conversation at a time, a museum relationship built on trust rather than obligation, and a partnership with First Nations communities that treats the ground itself as something shared.
It's easy to think of a resource as something owned. Mark's answer suggests something better — a resource that's stewarded, by people who understand that the ground was here long before any of them, and will matter long after.
Mark Turner uncovering a fossil, Photo by Robert Messenger
