Ray Stanford's hobby is taking over his house.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of rocks are heaped in knee-high windrows around his living room. Rock piles snake across the floor, under and over his furniture. Stacks of rocks have permanently usurped his kitchen stove.
"We don't even eat here, there are so many darn rocks in the house," Stanford said. His insurance company urged him to reinforce his floor beams. He did. But he won't get rid of the rocks.
These rocks are pocked with footprints, traces of a lost world that flourished 105 million to 115 million years ago, during a time geologists call the Cretaceous period.
The collection is a rocky Rolodex of the dinosaurs and flying reptiles that once roamed the steamy lakes and bogs of the Baltimore-Washington corridor.
In four years of what he agrees is obsessive rock-gathering in local streambeds, the writer, researcher and admitted "total amateur" paleontologist has amassed an astonishing collection of early Cretaceous footprints that the textbooks said did not exist.
"It is priceless a time machine," said Dr. Robert T. Bakker, famed fossil hunter and curator of the Tate Museum in Casper, Wyo.
"If you want to understand Maryland dinosaurs, you want lots of skeletons and you want lots of footprints. But we didn't have the footprints at all. Now, thanks to Ray, we have lots."
Stanford, his wife, Sheila, and the rocks occupy what is otherwise an unremarkable Washington-area house. (To protect his collection, Stanford asked The Sun not to reveal the location.)
The piles seem chaotic. In fact, it's a filing system. The track-bearing rocks are segregated by dinosaur type, and each pile is "labeled" by representative toy dinosaurs.
But this collection is no joke. Stanford, 59 and self-taught, has confounded the experts.
Dr. David Weishampel, a Johns Hopkins biologist and anatomist and author of a recent book on East Coast dinosaurs, was skeptical, but he took a look last fall.
"My jaw dropped," he said. "After picking it up, I started looking at things with a more critical eye. I was astounded." Weishampel admits his book now needs a rewrite.
Track expert Robert Weems of the U.S. Geological Survey said: "There is nothing remotely comparable to it for the Cretaceous anywhere in eastern North America."
It's not just that the wiry, "hyper" Texan has found prints where scientists said they didn't exist. Stanford has found more than 150 prints of up to a dozen species -- several new -- in a region where teeth and bones had hinted at barely four.
Scientists can now fill the skies of Cretaceous Maryland with flying reptiles with 22-foot wingspans. On the ground, they can add feathered dinosaurs or early birds, said Weishampel.
There are big and little examples -- and front and rear feet -- of the long-necked plant eaters called sauropods.
"We've got a couple of different kinds of herbivores we didn't know about before. And we may have a baby ankylosaur," a squat, tank-like armored beast. "All these are brand new and based on Ray's collection," he said.
On Stanford's green shag carpet lies a 200-pound, 26-inch-wide natural cast of a sauropod print. It may be Astrodon johnstoni, this year designated Maryland's official state dinosaur. It's the 00 first sauropod track found east of the Mississippi.
There are dime-sized, three-toed tracks Stanford believes were made by baby dinosaurs as they skittered around the print of a much bigger one.
Other rocks show where big flying reptiles called pterosaurs pressed their narrow feet and bony "fingers" into a muddy landing spot. And a 15-inch sauropod print may reveal skin patterns on the dinosaur's soles. Both would be firsts for the East.
Another slab shows where a pair of small meat-eaters squatted in the cooling mud. Stanford points out impressions of their feet, "hands" and undersides, surrounded by a fringe of what look like feathers. If so, it's a rarity sure to add fuel to the debate about the dinosaurian origins of birds.
Professionally cautious, Weems, Weishampel and Bakker differ with Stanford, or one another, on a few of these interpretations. But they scoff at none of it.
"At least 90 percent of what he says is there, I would agree with," Weems said. "And it could be all the way to 100 percent."
Stanford never earned a scientific degree. He built rockets as a kid, was intrigued by space propulsion, and for many years headed the Phoenix-based Project Starlight International, which studied UFO incidents.
One day he'd like to display his collection, perhaps at the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia, if nothing more suitable can be found. Maryland has no natural history museum.
America's first dinosaur prints were found during the 19th century, in a swath from Connecticut to Virginia. Most came from sediments from the late Triassic or early Jurassic periods, perhaps 200 million to 210 million years ago. Later exploration in Western states turned up many more.
Maryland's first dinosaur tracks were found in Emmitsburg in 1895. Those Triassic prints later disappeared, but persistent legwork last winter by Washington geologist Peter Kranz turned up more from the same quarry.
A slab bearing two dozen three-toed prints was found in an Emmitsburg barn owned by an order of Roman Catholic nuns, the Daughters of Charity. The Maryland Science Center in Baltimore will display it in July.
For more than a century, however, the much younger "Arundel" clay -- a slice of the Cretaceous-era sediments laid down between Washington and Baltimore 105 million to 115 million years ago -- yielded only bones and teeth, never tracks.
"The rock was all wrong" for tracks, Bakker said. "You want nice, clean slabs of siltstone; nice, clean, flat lake beds or sandbars. The Arundel bars are all contorted, a huge Okefenokee Swamp." They're also buried by younger sediments, roads and suburbia.
Stanford looked anyway. By walking the streams and flipping tons of rocks, he showed the Ph.D.s that Maryland's Cretaceous bogs and lakes were a terrific medium for preserving tracks.
Iron, concentrated in the ooze by bacterial action, combined with silica, minerals and organic materials in a kind of cement. It preserved the prints in colorful rocks so hard some of them clang when struck. Buried for eons, the rocks survived erosion and tumbling in the currents where Stanford found them.
"Ray's one of those guys who just has the eye to find tracks," Bakker said. Stanford calls it a knack for spotting patterns in seemingly chaotic forms. Sometimes he found eight or 10 tracks in an outing. But "it is very slow now," he said.
He has competition, and more prints may lie hidden in the collections of other amateurs, a sometimes territorial and secretive lot.
Stanford himself was slow to admit the professionals. But in March, he made his scientific debut -- three talks at the Academy of Natural Sciences' "Dinofest." He also hopes to work with Weems on a scientific journal article about some of his finds.
In the meantime, the word is out, and more amateur "rockheads" are scouring the region's streambeds. And they're entitled, Stanford said, provided they don't harm the stream, ruin the fossils or trespass on private land.
He urges those who find dinosaur tracks to contact him or Weems: "They may have the track of a dinosaur that's never been seen before. It's theirs, but we would like to catalog it, and we'd like them to be friends of science."
Weems' number is 703-648-6930. Stanford is reachable by e-mail at starsonrodigy.net
Pub Date: 6/04/98