Les 200 premières lignes.
Yes, this is home.
This is Earth.
Having trouble finding a familiar continent?
The past is another planet.
Actually, many.
I'm standing on the great expanse of time that has elapsed
since the Big Bang. In order to think about it,
we've compressed it all into a single year.
It's the early morning of December 23
on this Cosmic Calendar of ours,
or about 350 million years ago,
when our world was a mere four billion years old.
Earth looks so different.
You might not even know the place.
The stars wouldn't help you.
Even the constellations would have been different back then.
The dinosaurs were still
more than 100 million years in the future.
There were no birds, no flowers.
And the air was different, too.
The atmosphere had more oxygen than at any other time
in Earth's history, before or since.
This allowed insects to grow much larger than they do today.
How?
Insects don't have lungs.
Life-giving oxygen is taken in through openings
in the outside of their bodies
and transported through a network of tubes.
If an insect were too large,
the outer reaches of these tubes would absorb all the oxygen
before it could ever get to its internal organs.
But during the Carboniferous Period,
the atmosphere had almost twice the oxygen as today.
Insects could then grow much bigger
and still get enough oxygen in their bodies.
That's why the dragonflies here are as big as eagles
and the millipedes the size of alligators.
So why was there so much oxygen back then?
It was produced by a new kind of life.
What kind of life could've changed
the Earth's atmosphere so dramatically?
Plants that could reach for the sky--
trees.
In their competition for sunlight,
trees evolved a way to defy gravity.
Before trees, the tallest vegetation was
only about waist-high.
And then something wonderful happened.
A plant molecule evolved that was both strong and flexible,
a material that could support a lot of weight,
yet bend in the wind without breaking.
Lignin made trees possible.
Now life could build upward.
And this opened a whole new territory,
a three-dimensional matrix
for communities far above the ground.
Earth became the Planet of the Trees.
But lignin had a downside:
it was hard to swallow.
When nature's demolition crew, the fungi and bacteria,
tried to eat anything with lignin in it,
they got a really bad case of indigestion.
And termites wouldn't evolve
for at least another 100 million years.
What to do with all those dead trees?
It took the fungi and bacteria millions of years
to evolve the biochemical means to consume them.
Meanwhile, the trees just kept springing up,
dying, falling over
and getting buried by the mud that built up over eons.
Eventually, there were hundreds of billions of trees
entombed in the Earth,
buried forests all over the Earth.
What possible harm could come from that?
This cliff in Nova Scotia is another kind of calendar.
It tells the story of that other world
that once flourished right here.
And this is the death mask
of that 300 million-year-old tree.
It was cast by minerals that replaced the original wood
cell by cell-- in other words, a fossil.
The tree surrendered its organic molecules
to the environment long ago,
its carbon and water. Only its shape remains.
When this tree was alive, it took in carbon dioxide
and water and used sunlight
to turn them into energy-rich organic matter.
The tree gave off oxygen as a waste product.
That's what trees and other plants still do.
When plants die, they decay,
and this reverses the transaction.
Their organic matter combines with oxygen
and decomposes,
putting carbon dioxide back into the air.
This balances the books
for the chemistry of Earth's atmosphere.
But if the trees are buried before they can decay,
two things happen... they take the carbon
and stored solar energy with them
and leave the oxygen behind
to build up in the atmosphere.
That's what happened around 300 million years ago.
There was an oxygen surplus.
That's how the bugs got so big.
And what became of all that buried carbon?
It lay there for eons before dealing life on Earth
its most devastating blow of all time.
There are places on this planet where you can walk through time
and read the history written in the rocks.
This beach in Nova Scotia is one of them.
Every layer is a page.
Each one tells the story of a flood,
one after another, over millions of years.
The layer cake of flood deposits was slowly buried
and turned into rock by heat and pressure.
The same forces that built mountains
then tilted and uplifted them,
along with the entombed fossil forest.
The newer layers were always
deposited on top of the older ones.
All the pages are in the correct order,
bearing witness to what happened here
over millions of years.
Back that way
lies the more distant past.
And with every step I take,
I move about 1,000 years closer to the present
and away from the world of 300 million years ago.
50 million years later lies that way.
This was the beginning of the end of the Permian world,
an event of unequalled carnage.
The Permian is the darkest corridor
in this memorial to the broken branches on the Tree of Life--
the Halls of Extinction.
Death has never come so close
to reigning supreme on this world
in the quarter billion years since.
The eruptions, in what is now Siberia,
lasted for hundreds of thousands of years.
The lava flooded and buried more than a million square miles.
This event dwarfs any volcanic eruption
in historical times.
_
Huge quantities of carbon dioxide came pouring
out of the volcanic fissures.
This greenhouse gas warmed the climate.
And this is where the long-buried forests
of the earlier Carboniferous Period reenter the story.
During the intervening 50 million years,
those trees had turned into immense deposits of coal,
and as it happened,
one of the world's largest
accumulations of coal
was buried right there in Siberia.
The heat from the lava baked the coal,
driving methane and sulfur-rich gases out of the ground.
They were laden
with toxic and radioactive ash particles--
coal smoke.
This witch's brew polluted the atmosphere
and radically destabilized Earth's climate.
A sulfuric acid haze blocked incoming sunlight
and darkened the planet.
Global temperatures plummeted to subfreezing.
During lulls in the eruptions,
the acid haze fell back to the surface.
But the carbon dioxide remained
and built up in the atmosphere to cause global warming.
Years of frigid cold
alternating with millennia of stifling heat
battered a dwindling population of plants and animals.
They had no chance
to adapt to the drastic swings in climate.
As the global warming
continued, the surface and the bottom waters
slowly mixed, raising the temperature
of the once-frigid depths of the sea floor.
Methane-rich ices
that had been frozen in the sediments began to melt.
Newly liberated methane gas made its way to the surface
and into the atmosphere.
Methane traps heat far more efficiently
than carbon dioxide, so the climate
got even hotter.
And the methane also destroyed
the ozone layer in the stratosphere.
The natural sunscreen that protects life
from deadly ultraviolet rays was eaten away.
The circulatory system of the world ocean shut down.
These stagnant waters became oxygen-starved,
killing almost all the fish in the sea.
But one kind of life flourished in this brutal environment...
bacteria that produced deadly hydrogen sulfide gas
as a waste product.
That was the last straw.
The poison gas killed almost all the remaining plants
and animals on the land.
This was the Great Dying.
The closest life on Earth has ever come to annihilation.
Nine in ten of all species perished.
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