COLOMA–LOTUS VALLEY, Calif. — In the week since a fireball shot across the sky and exploded, scattering a rare type of meteorite over California’s Gold Country, these hills have drawn a new rush of treasure seekers.

Once again there are lively saloons, fortune hunters jockeying for prime spots and astounding tales of luck — including that of Brenda Salveson, a local who found a valuable space rock while walking her dog Sheldon, named after the theoretical physicist on the TV show “The Big Bang Theory.”

It started April 22, Earth Day, with a blazing streak across a morning sky and a sonic boom that the next day had the older women in the “Gentle Stretching to Beautiful Music” class at Sierra Ballet comparing notes on how hard their windows shook.

Eight hundred miles away, while windows were still rattling, Robert Ward in Prescott, Ariz., was getting alerts. A 35-year-old professional meteorite hunter and dealer, he pays for tips and keeps a bag packed, ready to go anywhere in the world to chase a meteorite.

On Tuesday, after 16 hours of driving, he scanned a parking lot in Lotus in the pre-dawn not knowing what type of rock he was seeking. But when he spotted a dark space pebble, he immediately recognized it as carbonaceous chondrite, meteorites containing water and carbon — the type scientists long to study for insights into how life began on Earth and possibly in other places.

“I was trembling,” Ward said. “It’s the rarest of the rare. It’s older than the sun. It holds the building blocks of life.”
The rush was on. The meteorites are invaluable to science but on the open market can also fetch $1,000 a gram, or more for larger, pristine pieces.

In Vancouver, British Columbia, Paul Gessler, a part-time meteorite hunter, was readying for a halibut fishing tournament when he read about Ward’s find on a hobbyists Twitter feed. He took his fishing rod back to the house and told his wife he was driving to California.

At the NASA Ames Research Center north of San Jose, Beverly Girten, deputy director in charge of the center’s experiments on the International Space Station, announced she was going to Coloma. Her boss reminded her of a conference call about a $40 million budget. Girten said meteorites with organic compounds could prove more important to science.

In the Gold Rush town of Rescue (elevation and population both 1,400), Salveson, a wife and mother of two, read a local news article about the meteorites. The field scattered with them, about three miles wide and 10 miles long, included Henningsen Lotus Park, where she walks her dog every morning. She noted what to look for: a rock that seemed out of place — different from anything around it. It would be dark and delicate.

On Wednesday, near the end of her stroll with Sheldon, Salveson picked up a rock the size of a spool of thread that seemed to match the description.

She walked over to a group with metal detectors.

“I opened my hand and they all let out a collective gasp,” she said.

The geologists, as they turned out to be, wrapped the stone in foil and told Salveson to get it into a bank vault as soon as possible. At 17 grams, it’s the largest of the meteorites found so far.

A few minutes before, a firefighter had stopped to search at the park on his way to work and found a 2-gram meteorite in less than 20 minutes. A dealer paid him $2,000 on the spot.

Before going to the bank, Salveson made one stop: Rescue Elementary School. She had her children — Linnea, 10, and Tommy, 6 — and their classmates put their hands behind their backs. She pulled back the foil just a little and told them to look at perhaps the oldest thing anyone has ever seen.