Dinosaur Dreams: A Father and Daughter in Search of America’s Prehistoric Past
Autor B. J. Hollarsen Limba Engleză Paperback – oct 2025
In the summer of 2023, one of the hottest on record, B.J. Hollars and his nine-year-old daughter Ellie embarked on a two-thousand-mile road trip to complete the Montana Dinosaur Trail, a fourteen-stop trail consisting of museums, state parks, and dinosaur dig sites throughout a state known for its Mesozoic-era fossil record. Throughout their two-week journey, they dig fossils, learn from amateur and professional paleontologists, and forge a bond even stronger than the dinosaurs they love.
Join B.J. and Ellie on a road trip that spans not just miles but millennia. With every stop, they deepen their understanding of dinosaurs, extinction, and what the fossil record might teach us about how best to preserve our planetary home. Together, father and daughter strive to answer the vital question of our age: Can we humans evolve fast enough to ensure our own survival?
Charming, thought-provoking, and full of discovery, Dinosaur Dreams is a time-traveling adventure that reminds us of what truly matters: the bonds we forge, the world we inherit, and the future we fight to protect.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781496237712
ISBN-10: 1496237714
Pagini: 256
Ilustrații: 26 photographs, 2 illustrations, 1 map
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 17 mm
Greutate: 0.32 kg
Editura: BISON BOOKS
Colecția Bison Books
Locul publicării:United States
ISBN-10: 1496237714
Pagini: 256
Ilustrații: 26 photographs, 2 illustrations, 1 map
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 17 mm
Greutate: 0.32 kg
Editura: BISON BOOKS
Colecția Bison Books
Locul publicării:United States
Notă biografică
B.J. Hollars is professor of English at the University of Wisconsin–Eau Claire. He is the author of numerous books, including Flock Together: A Love Affair with Extinct Birds (Nebraska, 2017), Go West, Young Man: A Father and Son Rediscover America on the Oregon Trail (Nebraska, 2021), Midwestern Strange: Hunting Monsters, Martians, and the Weird in Flyover Country (Nebraska, 2019), Dispatches from the Drownings: Reporting the Fiction of Nonfiction (New Mexico, 2014), This Is Only a Test, From the Mouths of Dogs: What Our Pets Teach Us about Life, Death, and Being Human (Nebraska, 2015), and Thirteen Loops: Race, Violence, and the Last Lynching in America. Hollars is also the founder and executive director of the Chippewa Valley Writers Guild.
Extras
1
A Bone to Pick
June 29
Eau Claire, WI → Bismarck, ND
Because no asteroids are hurtling toward Earth, there’s no need to rush our
goodbye. Nine-year-old Ellie and I take our time, loitering alongside the
minivan parked in our driveway on another warm morning in a series of
warm mornings in the hottest June on record.
Eleven-year-old Henry and three-year-old Millie flank their mother Meredith,
who is unsure how to proceed. Ellie and I are about to embark upon
the adventure of a lifetime. Not another Thursday trip to the park, the
library, or the grocery store, but Montana—the Treasure State—home to
natural beauty, mineral resources, and, most of all, dinosaurs.
We’re dedicating two weeks and 2,500 miles to complete the Montana
Dinosaur Trail—a statewide trail of fourteen museums, interpretive centers,
and dig sites—all dedicated to the mystery and majesty of the largest
land animals ever to roam the earth. More than a few members of the
Dinosaur Hall of Fame once called present-day Montana home, from the
razor-toothed Tyrannosaurus rex to the duckbilled Maiasaura. Enter the
Triceratops, the Brachylophosaurus, the Pachycephalosaurus, and more. Anyone
who was anyone in the Late Cretaceous lived and died where we’re
now headed.
Meredith shoots me her bittersweet smile: there’s no sense prolonging
the inevitable.
“Okay then,” I say, beginning the proceedings. “I guess it’s now or never.”
That isn’t entirely true.
The dinosaurs aren’t going anywhere. They’re either safely displayed in
museums or buried beneath the ground. But if we want to make Bismarck
by nightfall, we need to hit the road. My anxiety about hitting that road is
only offset by my anxiety about staying put, which would be much easier.
But easy is not what inspires us. For the rest of our days, I want us to recall
that time in our lives when we didn’t do the easy thing. The time we threw
caution to the wind and were rewarded (fingers crossed) with memories
more numerous than stars.
When I broached the idea the previous fall, Ellie seemed thrilled. Dad
and dinosaurs! What could be better than that? But as summer approached,
she’d grown leery of the timeline and the company.
“Two weeks is a long time,” she conceded.
“Not really,” I replied, “not in a geological sense . . .”
“Well, it feels long,” she added sheepishly, “especially when that whole
time is spent with one person . . .”
“No offense taken,” I said.
But I knew what she meant. Distance makes the heart grow fonder,
though it can be hard to come by when cramped in a van.
Meredith makes the first move, embracing Ellie like a Velociraptor on a
small mammal—but less murderous.
“Oh, I love you so much, my sweet girl,” she says.
Ellie—who has never been separated from her mom for longer than a
mini-week at camp—sags into her mother’s open arms.
At that moment, I suspect Ellie might have preferred the park, library,
or store over our two-week trip to Montana. What are dinosaurs, after all,
but a bunch of old bones? Don’t get me wrong, Ellie loves dinosaurs (she’s
a living, breathing child, after all). But she also loves her bunk bed, the
backyard trampoline, and, often, her brother and sister.
But it’s too late to turn back. Already, I’d spent the morning playing Tetris
with our provisions, fitting coolers, sleeping bags, suitcases, and backpacks
into their perfect places. So no, we are not turning back, and we are not
opening the trunk. We’re fifteen feet from our living room, but our journey
has begun.
Besides, did dinosaurs throw in the towel when they missed their mommies?
Did they pull their hybrid minivans back into their garages and return
to the safety of their living rooms? They most certainly didn’t. Come hell
or high water (and they endured both), they persisted.
For 165 million years.
With a little luck and a lot of fast food, Ellie and I can survive two weeks
together.
Taking his cue from his mom, Henry musters the most heartfelt goodbye
an eleven-year-old can.
“Okay,” he sighs, “see you later or . . . whatever.”
“I love you, Henry,” Ellie says, latching onto him.
Completing the sibling chain, Millie clings to Ellie’s leg like a barnacle—an
extraction that requires both parents to peel her fingers away.
“Bring her back safe,” Meredith says, hugging me. “And find lots of dinosaurs!”
“Will do,” I promise. “At least the first part.”
The previous night, under the cover of darkness, the entire family had
tried to slow time by chalk-drawing in the driveway. One after another, as
the moon gleamed overhead, we lay flat on the blacktop so Millie could
trace our outlines with thick nubs of chalk. No matter that our chalky shapes
resembled a crime scene; for Millie, it was a way to keep us close.
Peering at our two-dimensional family in the morning light, I wonder how
long our chalk versions will last. No doubt there’s a downpour somewhere
in our future, though for the moment, it’s nothing but sunshine ahead.
Millie—who seemed on the verge of collapse just moments ago—forgoes
her freakout in favor of one last addition to her chalk drawing. Reaching for
a piece of chalk, she draws a top hat along Ellie’s chalked head.
“There,” Millie says proudly, turning toward us. “Now, Ellie, you a gentleman!”
Laughing beats crying, so we do.
Ellie and I enter the van, buckle our seatbelts, and begin the long, slow
reverse out of the driveway.
I catch Ellie’s anxious eyes in the rearview.
“It’ll be fine,” I promise.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Sure, I’m sure,” I say.
Which is probably what some daddy dinosaur said to his daughter as an
asteroid lit up the sky.
A Bone to Pick
June 29
Eau Claire, WI → Bismarck, ND
Because no asteroids are hurtling toward Earth, there’s no need to rush our
goodbye. Nine-year-old Ellie and I take our time, loitering alongside the
minivan parked in our driveway on another warm morning in a series of
warm mornings in the hottest June on record.
Eleven-year-old Henry and three-year-old Millie flank their mother Meredith,
who is unsure how to proceed. Ellie and I are about to embark upon
the adventure of a lifetime. Not another Thursday trip to the park, the
library, or the grocery store, but Montana—the Treasure State—home to
natural beauty, mineral resources, and, most of all, dinosaurs.
We’re dedicating two weeks and 2,500 miles to complete the Montana
Dinosaur Trail—a statewide trail of fourteen museums, interpretive centers,
and dig sites—all dedicated to the mystery and majesty of the largest
land animals ever to roam the earth. More than a few members of the
Dinosaur Hall of Fame once called present-day Montana home, from the
razor-toothed Tyrannosaurus rex to the duckbilled Maiasaura. Enter the
Triceratops, the Brachylophosaurus, the Pachycephalosaurus, and more. Anyone
who was anyone in the Late Cretaceous lived and died where we’re
now headed.
Meredith shoots me her bittersweet smile: there’s no sense prolonging
the inevitable.
“Okay then,” I say, beginning the proceedings. “I guess it’s now or never.”
That isn’t entirely true.
The dinosaurs aren’t going anywhere. They’re either safely displayed in
museums or buried beneath the ground. But if we want to make Bismarck
by nightfall, we need to hit the road. My anxiety about hitting that road is
only offset by my anxiety about staying put, which would be much easier.
But easy is not what inspires us. For the rest of our days, I want us to recall
that time in our lives when we didn’t do the easy thing. The time we threw
caution to the wind and were rewarded (fingers crossed) with memories
more numerous than stars.
When I broached the idea the previous fall, Ellie seemed thrilled. Dad
and dinosaurs! What could be better than that? But as summer approached,
she’d grown leery of the timeline and the company.
“Two weeks is a long time,” she conceded.
“Not really,” I replied, “not in a geological sense . . .”
“Well, it feels long,” she added sheepishly, “especially when that whole
time is spent with one person . . .”
“No offense taken,” I said.
But I knew what she meant. Distance makes the heart grow fonder,
though it can be hard to come by when cramped in a van.
Meredith makes the first move, embracing Ellie like a Velociraptor on a
small mammal—but less murderous.
“Oh, I love you so much, my sweet girl,” she says.
Ellie—who has never been separated from her mom for longer than a
mini-week at camp—sags into her mother’s open arms.
At that moment, I suspect Ellie might have preferred the park, library,
or store over our two-week trip to Montana. What are dinosaurs, after all,
but a bunch of old bones? Don’t get me wrong, Ellie loves dinosaurs (she’s
a living, breathing child, after all). But she also loves her bunk bed, the
backyard trampoline, and, often, her brother and sister.
But it’s too late to turn back. Already, I’d spent the morning playing Tetris
with our provisions, fitting coolers, sleeping bags, suitcases, and backpacks
into their perfect places. So no, we are not turning back, and we are not
opening the trunk. We’re fifteen feet from our living room, but our journey
has begun.
Besides, did dinosaurs throw in the towel when they missed their mommies?
Did they pull their hybrid minivans back into their garages and return
to the safety of their living rooms? They most certainly didn’t. Come hell
or high water (and they endured both), they persisted.
For 165 million years.
With a little luck and a lot of fast food, Ellie and I can survive two weeks
together.
Taking his cue from his mom, Henry musters the most heartfelt goodbye
an eleven-year-old can.
“Okay,” he sighs, “see you later or . . . whatever.”
“I love you, Henry,” Ellie says, latching onto him.
Completing the sibling chain, Millie clings to Ellie’s leg like a barnacle—an
extraction that requires both parents to peel her fingers away.
“Bring her back safe,” Meredith says, hugging me. “And find lots of dinosaurs!”
“Will do,” I promise. “At least the first part.”
The previous night, under the cover of darkness, the entire family had
tried to slow time by chalk-drawing in the driveway. One after another, as
the moon gleamed overhead, we lay flat on the blacktop so Millie could
trace our outlines with thick nubs of chalk. No matter that our chalky shapes
resembled a crime scene; for Millie, it was a way to keep us close.
Peering at our two-dimensional family in the morning light, I wonder how
long our chalk versions will last. No doubt there’s a downpour somewhere
in our future, though for the moment, it’s nothing but sunshine ahead.
Millie—who seemed on the verge of collapse just moments ago—forgoes
her freakout in favor of one last addition to her chalk drawing. Reaching for
a piece of chalk, she draws a top hat along Ellie’s chalked head.
“There,” Millie says proudly, turning toward us. “Now, Ellie, you a gentleman!”
Laughing beats crying, so we do.
Ellie and I enter the van, buckle our seatbelts, and begin the long, slow
reverse out of the driveway.
I catch Ellie’s anxious eyes in the rearview.
“It’ll be fine,” I promise.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Sure, I’m sure,” I say.
Which is probably what some daddy dinosaur said to his daughter as an
asteroid lit up the sky.
Cuprins
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Cast of Characters
Prologue
1. A Bone to Pick
2. Embrace the Evolution
3. Dollars for Dinos
4. Tires Make Good Neighbors
5. Where the Deer and the Dinosaurs Play
6. Of Mammoths and Men
7. Maternal Instinct
8. Hit the Road for Jack
9. Leonardo and Matilda
10. Amateur Hour
11. Of Faith and Fossils
12. Take Me Home, Country Road
Epilogue
Notes on the Sources
Bibliography
Author’s Note
Cast of Characters
Prologue
1. A Bone to Pick
2. Embrace the Evolution
3. Dollars for Dinos
4. Tires Make Good Neighbors
5. Where the Deer and the Dinosaurs Play
6. Of Mammoths and Men
7. Maternal Instinct
8. Hit the Road for Jack
9. Leonardo and Matilda
10. Amateur Hour
11. Of Faith and Fossils
12. Take Me Home, Country Road
Epilogue
Notes on the Sources
Bibliography
Recenzii
“Dinosaur Dreams invites us to be the welcomed third passenger with Ellie and B.J. on their paleontological adventure. Along the way, the concepts, people, and sites we’re introduced to—not to mention some incredibly cool dinosaurs!—will deepen anyone’s appreciation for paleontology.”—Emily Graslie, host of PBS’s Prehistoric Road Trip
“Dinosaur Dreams is the perfect serotonin boost for the modern era. A dive into the history and lesser-known politics of paleontology through the lens of a father-daughter road trip. With humor and vulnerability, this book celebrates the connections we forge on the open road and our shared fascination with dinosaurs.”—Joseph Frederickson, lead paleontologist and manager of Natural Sciences Collections at the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis
“One of my core memories had a profound effect on the trajectory of my career in paleontology, and it was a road trip to Ashfall Fossil Beds State Historical Park with my dad in the late 1990s. With both of us being paleo nerds, we bonded over this incredible site. Fast-forward a decade or so, and a field trip during my undergraduate years took me once again to Ashfall. Then to 2006, when I loaded up my mom’s car and drove to Ashfall myself to spend the summer immersed in paleontology, on my way to becoming the paleontologist I am today. All this to say that even just one road trip with a trusted adult can have lasting effects on a kid, let alone experiencing the whole Montana Dinosaur Trail! Dinosaur Dreams is a wonderful reflection of this, creating memories by exploring the recent and ancient history of our planet.”—Kallie Moore, cohost of PBS Eons
Descriere
B.J. Hollars and his daughter, Ellie, set out to explore Montana’s legendary Dinosaur Trail, learning along the way what the creatures who best understand extinction might teach us about our own survival amid climate change.