Citizen Scientist - Sharing Explorations of the World

#2 God and the Birth of Metalworking

The Chicken and the Egg

If you read Wikipedia, or browse the internet, you'll see plenty of links saying that a wood fire is not nearly hot enough to melt metal or make glass with. Links such as this Melting Gold will say that nothing but an acetylene torch or a propane furnace will do. However, we know from any musuem that the ancient Egyptians and other peoples were obviously melting gold. Certainly, Pharoah's henchmen did not go to Radio Shack and buy a little oxygen / acetylene torch! Similarly, other sites might say that you need to have charcoal, and a bellows. But, why would you have that, if you didn't even have a concept that rocks could not only melt, but some rare ones might yield metals when doing so? There had to be an evolutionary, incremental step that yielded the dramatic discovery of metal working.

In Ancient Footsteps

It has been very cold as of late and oil for this citizen scientist's house has been expensive. I bought a half cord of firewood, and had been making fires to keep the place a bit warmer while my son is away during the week, sparing the precious oil for when he is with me. It has also been very dry where I live, and the wood that I am using is well seasoned. It takes but a few small sticks and newspaper worth of kindling to light.

I've been practicing with fire. In doing so, I discovered the secret advantage of a huge, old brick chimney. With ample space inside, a good wind, and a cold day, I have a powerful draft. My house actually sits on top of a small hill, so I get any wind there is in Delaware. When conditions are right, fires in my fireplace get plenty of air.

It was football day. My beloved Philadelphia Eagles were down by 21 points against the New York Giants headed into the fourth quarter. I did what any man would do, and decided to stoke up the fire in offering to God Almighty for football victory. I had had a fire burning for hours, and there was a nice bed of hot coalish material glowing on top of the ash in the fireplace. I added wood, and experimented with its placement. It was cold and windy. The draft was so strong it was as if I had a fan on the flame. A bellows? I had one, provided by nature.

A Commune with God

It was getting deep into the fourth quarter. The Eagles were far behind, playing terribly, but held a glimmer of hope. Michael Vick threw a magnificent pass to Deshawn Jackson, but he fumbled it! That was it for me. I turned the football game off in disgust and relented in my junior scientist's pleas to play Lego Indiana Jones. I focused on the fire.

Fueled with plenty of wood and plenty of fresh oxygen, my wood fire burned white and blue. Unfortunately I could not capture that image. All I got on my camera was orange. My fireplace grate, cast iron, weakened and cracked. It was a hot fire for sure, but with my Eagles down, seemingly headed to defeat, I decided to make it hotter still. My old curiosity came back. "Could this wood fire be enough to melt gold with?", I wondered.

Now, I only had one gold thing, my wedding band. I had previously imagined melting it with an acetylene torch, trying to conjure up an emotional moment when I finally finished my divorce. But this was a man moment, a roaring fire, a chat with God amidst the emotional carnage of not only a ruined marriage, but even worse, the Eagles potentially being shoved out of first place for the NFC East by the minions of Satan himself, the New York Giants.

"Take this God", I said, and I threw my wedding ring into what I perceived to be the hottest part of the flame.

In a few minutes, the ring glowed. I was reminded of the One Ring of Sauron being melted by the fires of Mt. Doom in Peter Jackson's rendition of Lord of the Rings. "And in the darkness bind them", I laughed to myself.

And Science Again

I wanted to play with the ring in its glowing state. Could I distort it somehow? I reached into the flame with the poker, and tried to pick it up. The ring stretched and broke and fell back into the flames and disappeared. It had become liquid. I had melted gold in a plain old wood fire, with nothing but a dry and windy day, and good chimney, placement of house, charcoal on the bottom, and lots of seasoned oak. That's how ancient man could have done it, and from there, knowing that they could melt gold, and other things, they could then have a goal with which they might further invest into metal and fire making, and, similarly, glassworking.

I poked around the flame a bit, to see if I could see any sign of my ring. It was $300 worth of gold, in 2000 prices, after all. It was gone.

I checked my computer for the score, to see what the outcome was, and here, in the last 7 minutes and 28 seconds, the Philadelphia Eagles scored 28 unanswered points and won.

Charged with emotion I rediscovered faith. Compelled to open new doors with it, I had discovered science when I opened them. God and fire met, again, on the field and in the hearth, on a cold Sunday afternoon, and reintroduced me to truth. I had followed in the footsteps of the ancients, and learned of melting metal.

I began to envision what I might do with what I had learned, and further curiosities. What else could I melt? What could I do with it? I don't have any more gold to play with, but I might try and melt bits of glass. And, realizing that we have, as humanity, 5000 years of things learned since fire and gold met, I can just learn from that. So, in 2011, I'm taking a glassblowing class, and a metal working class. Regardless of what you believe about God and football, this citizen scientist has discovered that melting things in a fire is very, very cool.