LA BREA, Calif. -- The world, 40,000 years ago -- The weather's perfect. A warm breeze from the Pacific rustles the palms, there's the sharp tang of juniper and pine in the air, and the nameless mountains, which rise beyond the plain that will one day be Los Angeles, glow mauve in the early morning sun.
Enter victim No. 1, a large camel. It's wary. There are hungry American lions around. But the camel is thirsty, and that gleaming pool of water is irresistible. If this parched beast had approached the pool in winter, when cooler temperatures ensured that the asphalt that lies beneath was harder, the ensuing scene would not have occurred.
But it's summer. The asphalt's like glue, and the camel is soon mired, bellowing and sinking.