A Prehistoric Prize Goes on the Block
On July 14, Sotheby's will open live bidding on a collection of fossils, with the centerpiece being lot 20: a 67-million-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton nicknamed Gus. Discovered on a ranch in South Dakota, the specimen comprises 183 fossil bone elements, making it approximately 61% complete by bone count. It has been mounted in a custom steel armature with replicas of missing bones, posed mid-pursuit with dagger-like teeth bared.
Sotheby's expects Gus to fetch up to $30 million. Thomas Holtz, a tyrannosaur specialist at the University of Maryland, describes the specimen as spectacular and scientifically significant, citing both its completeness and the high quality of its bones.
From Sue to Samson: The Commercial Fossil Boom
The commercial fossil market took off in 1997 when Sotheby's auctioned Sue, the most complete T. rex on record, for approximately $8.4 million. That sale went to the Field Museum in Chicago. But the legal landscape shifted around that auction. Cassandra Hatton, vice chairman of Sotheby's science and natural history department, notes that before Sue's sale, there were no laws clarifying fossil ownership. Court cases established that in the United States, whoever owns the land also owns whatever fossils are found on it—a principle that has fueled a booming market ever since.
In recent years, however, ultrawealthy individuals have increasingly outbid museums. Tech entrepreneur Dan O'Dowd owns a T. rex called Samson. A 2025 study found that more T. rex fossils now reside in private collections than in public trusts. In 2024, Sotheby's sold a Stegosaurus named Apex to hedge fund billionaire Ken Griffin for a record $44.6 million. The auction house also sold the only known juvenile Ceratosaurus in the world to an anonymous buyer for $30.5 million. As prices climb, museums are increasingly priced out of the market.
Science Lost to the Highest Bidder
Auction houses argue that sales help science by rescuing fossils from erosion and ensuring professional excavation and preparation. Hatton contends that if a fossil is not excavated, it is lost to everyone.
Paleontologists strongly disagree. They argue that commercial excavation often fails to document the geological context essential for understanding an organism's age, cause of death, and ecosystem. Mounting bones for artistic display can render them impossible to study with modern techniques such as computed tomographic imaging, which noninvasively reveals hidden features.
Researchers also accuse auction houses of prioritizing marketing over accuracy. Sotheby's describes holes in Gus's jaw and elsewhere as tyrannosaurid bite marks—evidence of battles or scavenging by other T. rexes. Stuart Sumida, a paleontologist at California State University, San Bernardino, disputes this. He notes that puncture marks are irregularly shaped with splintered edges, whereas the holes on Gus's bones are perfectly round and smooth. Such holes are common on tyrannosaur bones and have been previously attributed to infections. Sumida says it is much more dramatic to call them puncture wounds, but that is not how puncture wounds look, adding that the T. rex probably just had really bad breath.
