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New takes on the Wealden Supergroup palaeobiota, part 2: Baryonyx, freshwater plesiosaurs, ornithomimosaurs and others

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Last week we took a look at some new art of animals from the Wealden Supergroup, the intensively studied, historically important Lower Cretaceous rocks of Southern Britain. We all know the Wealden for celebrity dinosaurs like Iguanodon and Baryonyx, but there's a heap of other interesting animals in there which get relatively little publicity. It's mostly these we're focusing on here, in the second (and final) part of these 'picture of the day'-style posts. 

As before, if you like anything here, remember that you can buy prints of them all from my shop (the Wealden section might be relevant) and its new Facebook outlet. Indeed, if you like my work and are on Facebook, why not 'like' the new Mark Witton Palaeoart page? It's the best place to see when new prints and finished pictures are available.

Baryonyx walkeri: king of the fishers, redux

Baryonyx walkeri, off for a stroll among the crocodyliforms and pterosaurs.
Let's break this post in with a familiar animal: spinosaurid Baryonyx. It's hard to appreciate now how weird this animal seemed back in the 1980s and 1990s. At this point, other spinosaur material was only very poorly known, and laymen and scientists alike found this weird, superficially-crocodile like animal fascinating. Ironically, it's recently turned out that we first collected Wealden spinosaur material centuries ago, but struggled to recognise its significance until more complete remains were unearthed in the 1980s. We now know that Baryonyx can be found throughout a good chunk of upper Wealden stratigraphy and teeth referable to it - or another spinosaurid - are fairly common, at least as Wealden dinosaur fossils go. Baryonyx provided the basic template we'd recognise for all spinosaurid anatomy until last year when, famously, some spinosaurs were proposedto be rather different. It's clear that, whatever is going on with Spinosaurus, Baryonyx retains more conventional hindlimb and pelvic proportions, and may not have been so aquatically adapted as true spinosaurines. In this updated image, B. walkeri is splashing into a body of water while goniopholidid crocodyliforms and gnathosaurine pterosaurs go about their business around it. Note how much larger Baryonyx is compared to the crocs: Baryonyx is the largest theropod in the Wealden Supergroup, by a good margin.

Button-toothed crocs, redux

Bernissartid Koumpiodontosuchus aprosdokiti foraging for molluscs. It's eating a mud snail, Viviparus cariniferus, while tiny (6 mm long) physid gastropods Prophysa crawl over pond scum in the lower left of the image. Dragonflies provide scale, and unnamed tetanurans prowl around the background.
Last year I was lucky enough to provide the first restoration of Kompiodontosuchus aprosdokiti, a small neosuchian crocodyliform common to the Wessex Formation, and perhaps other parts of the Wealden sequence. Koumpiodontosuchus is a bernissartid, a group of small-bodied crocodyliforms with robust, shell-cracking teeth at the back of their jaws. As you'll know if you read my write up last year, these were likely employed in smashing molluscs and insects. The tetanuran theropods in this image are unnamed, but are not thought to be referable to any existing Wealden taxa. We probably need more material of them to consider them nameable, however: recognising that they are different from other Wealden theropods is only half the battle. Modern students of Wealden fossils famously do their best to preserve historic names based on fragmentary bones, but there seems to be an effort to 'future proof' Wealden taxonomy against confusion by only naming well-represented, characteristic animals. I guess I could have chosen one of the better known theropods to play the 'This was the Age of Dinosaurs' card for this PR image, but I think it's good to show that not all large theropods in the Wessex palaeobiota were Neovenator, Baryonyx or Eotyrannus

Welcoming the new Wealden ornithomimosaurs

A flock of Wessex Formation ornithomimosaurs forage in a marshland, while istiodactylid pterosaurs skulk about behind them.
Those keeping their ears to the ground will know that the newest arrivals to the Wealden dinosaur palaeobiota are ornithomimosaurs, commonly known as ostrich dinosaurs. Two specimens show that these animals were present in both the Weald and Wessex basins of the broader Wealden succession, and one of these fossils represents a historic taxon named in 1889: Valdoraptor oweni. Key to identifying ostrich dinosaurs in the Wealden was the discovery of abundant ornithomimosaur remains in France, many of which are so reminiscent of Valdoraptor and other Wealden theropod material that they may represent the same taxon. If you want to know more about these and their relationship to the complex story of Wealden theropods, check out Darren Naish's post on this at Tetrapod Zoology.

The above new painting shows a group of (nameless) Wessex Formation ornithomimosaurs in a well-vegetated marshland, in the rainy season, while istiodactylid pterosaurs mosey about in the background. The abundance of ostrich dinosaurs and juveniles in the middle-right are nods to the frequent recovery of abundant specimens of different levels of maturity at many ostrich dinosaur sites, including the new, French 'Angeac ornithomimosaur'. Note that the wings of the running foreround animal are somewhat swept back: I don't think the more common way of reconstructing ornithomimosaurs with 'dangly arms' looks right. They look like they should be holding shopping bags or something.

Valdosaurus in the forest, redux

Two Wealden dryosaurids Valdosaurus canaliculatus, and a stubborn avialan.
Ornithomimosaurs weren't the only fast runners in Wealden landscapes. Dryosaurids, like Valdosaurus canaliculatuswere also fleet-footed animals with powerful, well-muscled hindlimbs, and tiny bodies attached to the front. In this reworked image, two of these 3-4 m long animals are taking it slow through a Wealden woodland. Although Wealden climates were quite warm and arid, leaving much of the landscape looking quite chaparral-like, some relatively upland parts seem to have been more vegetated: it's here that this picture is set. In my mind, these animals always walked with the stooping posture of the foreground animal - as noted last time, I like the idea that prehistoric animals had characteristic postures varying slightly from those we consistently restore in skeletal restorations. Note the avialan on the left of the image, which is a nod to the recovery of bird teeth from Wealden deposits. Anyone who's ever been forced to walk around a stubborn reclined mallard will recognise the situation now facing the Valdosaurus.

Barilium dawsomi in leathers, redux

Barilium dawsoni, a large and very robust iguanodont from Sussex. A flock of 'Ashdown maniraptorans' add scale.
Last time we featured Iguanodon bernissartensis: now it's the turn of the 'other' big Wealden iguanodont, the stratigraphically older, and osteologically chunkier Barilium dawsoni. In this redone painting, I've tried to make the Barilium skin more interesting than just plain old scales, covering the back in small, horny ossicles and creasing the flanks as if the skin is particularly thick, leathery and folded. I think we should be rendering more interesting skin regularly in scaly dinosaur palaeoart, as it seems most extensive dinosaur skin remains show unexpected features - strangle scales, wattles, folds and that sort of thing - which small skin patches mostly cannot record adequately. It's interesting to contrast these skin impressions with homogeneous restorations of scaly dinosaur appearance presented by some, where every species is covered in smooth hide following perfect contours of the underlying tissues: I'm not sure that's what fossils are telling us. As before, the 'Ashdown maniraptoran' provides scale to the bulk of Barilium. For the uninitiated, the Ashdown maniraptoran is seriously small for a Mesozoic dinosaur - maybe about 30-50 cm long. If you find big iguanodonts exciting, be sure to check out this previous post.

Polacanthus redux, again

A Wealden tree vies for attention with Polacanthus foxii, and some tiny birds.
OK, I'm cheating a bit with this one. This redone version of a much older painting has been posted fairly recently, but it seemed a bit remiss to skip this ankylosaur in this run down of recently produced Wealden palaeoart. Polacanthus foxii is, of course, the Wealden's sacral-shield-bearing nodosaurid, shown here strolling around a Cretaceous hillock with some birds for company. Having scratched the completist itch, let's move on, because we've seen this all before.

Accidentally sinister Leptocleidus, redux 

Mother and calf Leptocleidus superstes, a freshwater leptocleidid plesiosaur, explore a river inlet in Lower Cretaceous Sussex. 
Our final stop is in Wealden rivers and estuaries, where Leptocleidus superstes and other species of freshwater leptocleidid plesiosaurs roamed. The new version of this image has added a lot of detail on top of the original, which has inadvertently made the mother and calf Leptocleidus look more sinister than intended - hey, it's not my fault their teeth stick out like that. Back in the original post on these animals I mentioned that pliosaurs may also have been present in Wealden lakes and rivers, but note that this is no longer certain: the Hastanectes valdensis remains once provisionally considered pliosauroid have been placed in Leptocleididae in more recent analyses. That does make for a neater story - it means that leptocleidids retain their dominant role as 'near-shore-or-freshwater' animals, but perhaps a slightly less interesting one.

And that's all for now - I hope you've enjoyed this jaunt back to the ancient Wealden and these revised artworks. I'm sure we'll visit the Wealden again in time. Coming next, probably: walking with non-pterodactyloid pterosaurs.

Why Dimorphodon macronyx is one of the coolest pterosaurs

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How to make Dimorphodon macronyx fly: chase it down with a Sarcosaurus-like dinosaur. The most recent illustration of the 'reluctant flier Dimorphodon' hypothesis, based on predicted wing parameters of this heavyset pterosaur. Prints of this image are available.

With Jurassic World about to start assaulting the box office and intelligence of palaeontologists around the globe, it seems appropriate to take a look at some of the science behind the animals featured in the film. Being just about to move house (copious books and fossils = Worst. Moving. Experience. Ever.) means I can't write about them all, but we have time to look at one of the pterosaurs they're featuring, and coincidentally also one of my favourite fossil species: Dimorphodon macronyx. I was quite chuffed to hear Dimorphodon was going to make it to the big screen, but... oh dear. Poor Dimorphodon has been really mangled by the infamous reconstruction approach of the Jurassic World film makers, and the information on their website is really awful - powerful talons for snatching fish? Seriously?. From what we've seen so far at least, I wonder if it's one of the worst reconstructions in the film.

"Now that is one big pile of..."From the Jurassic World wikia.

Clearly, the Dimorphodon of Jurassic World is going to be nothing like the Dimorphodon known to researchers. OK, that's hardly a shock, but it's a shame nonetheless. Dimorphodon is not a theropod-headed scaly dragon, but an especially interesting and significant animal to pterosaur researchers. I'm involved in several Dimorphodon related projects at the moment - one should see fruition next week - and thought I'd share some of the basis for my fascination here.

OK, smart guy, what was Dimorphodon really like?

Dimorphodon is one of the best known early pterosaurs. Seemingly unique to Lower Jurassic rocks of Dorset, UK (Mexican material previously referred to Dimorphodon likely represents a different taxon), it is perhaps the oldest pterosaur known from anything like three-dimensional remains. This doesn't include skull material, which is always preserved with the topography of a pancake, but much of our Dimorphodon limb and body fossils have some, if not entire, three-dimensionality to them. Although a complete skeleton has never been found, several half- or near-complete specimens are known along with a lot of associated material. The upshot of this is that a fairly decent understanding of Dimorphodon osteology has been held for almost 150 years (so, yeah, the Jurassic World animal is less accurate than renditions put together by Victorian palaeontologists. It's not the only Jurassic World species to suffer this sort of problem). With most older pterosaur fossils being either mere fragments or entirely squashed skeletons, Dimorphodon represents an important insight into early pterosaur anatomy. This is especially so because some aspects of its skeleton - particularly jaw shape, dental anatomy and wing proportions -indicate it is a rather 'plesiomorphic' species, closely related to some of the oldest known pterosaurs, such as the Triassic taxa Peteinosaurus and Preondactylus. This might make it particularly informative as goes the anatomy of the first pterosaurs, with all sorts of potential for investigating their locomotion and ancestry. It must be said that this is only one interpretation of Dimorphodon phylogenetics however: the interrelationships of early pterosaurs are particularly contentious, and other workers suggest it plots much further away from the base of the pterosaur tree.

Restored Dimorphodon macronyx skeleton. From Witton (2013).
Dimorphodon is widely known for its dentition, its 'two form teeth' providing a generic namesake. The larger teeth of Dimorphodon are sometimes incorrectly portrayed as splaying from its jaws, somewhat like those of rhamphorhynchine or ornithocheird pterosaurs. So far as we can tell, though, they were more-or-less vertically orientated. These bigger teeth possess carinae - cutting surfaces running along the anterior and posterior dental margins. Only the posterior region of the lower jaw has the second type of tooth - very small, sharp cusps which are positioned at regular intervals to make the jaw resemble a hacksaw blade. These were clearly the subject of heavy use in life: some specimens possess broken tips.

D. macronyx tooth morphologies. Note the broken tooth exploded from the main image. From Ősi (2011).
Its not only teeth which make Dimorphodon characteristic, however. The size of the skull is quite remarkable compared to other early flying reptiles, and a forerunner to the trend of large skull sizes that would develop later in monofenestratan pterosaurs. The fact all Dimorphodon skulls end up being flattened indicates that the skull bones were not robust. That said, although likely full of air in life, the skull of Dimorphodon is still large enough to occupy a proportionally large amount of body mass, as were the hindlimbs (Henderson 2010). We tend to think of early pterosaurs as scrawny-legged animals which couldn't walk if their lives depended on it, but Dimorphodon limbs are pretty well built. Indeed, the hindlimbs are so strongly put together that Dimorphodon was the pterosaur behind the controversial 'dinosaur-like bipdeal pterosaurs' concept discussed through the 1980s and 1990s. I've been wondering of late whether we can consider that idea fully refuted now: at least one individual still champions the idea, but they have not really countered the wealth of evidence set against pterosaurian bipedality. For those not keeping score, that evidence includes the anterior centre of gravity occurring in all pterosaurs; issues with hindlimb musculature efficiency at poses imposed by bipdal gaits; problems with neatly folding the wing; the wealth of quadrupedal pterosaur trackways; trackway and osteological characteristics indicating plantigrade feet; and scaling regimes of pterosaur limbs matching those of quadrupedal volant animals, but not bipedal ones. Although a minority of these points have been partially refuted (sometimes controversially), evidence supporting the bipedal pterosaur hypothesis is thin on the ground compared to that for quadrupedality, and this applies to Dimorphodon as much as anything. I'm coming to the opinion that the use of bipedal or quadrupedal gaits is not really a debated topic for pterosaurs now.

The hands and feet of Dimorphodon are also robust, and equipped with large, trenchant claw bones (these, of course, provide the specific namesake, 'macronyx'). There are indications that the extensor muscles controlling these might have been powerful, as every claw on both hands and feet is equipped with a neighbouring sesamoid - those intra-tendinous bones serving to enhance muscle output or protect tendons against powerful joint motion. Interestingly, the only other animals with these claw-adjacent sesamoids are lizards and a 'bottom walking' fossil stem-turtle - more on that another time. As with all pterosaurs, there is no indication that their hands or feet were for grasping, and their claws are really nothing like talons (take that, Jurassic World website).

Dimorphodon wings are interesting for their contrasting proportions to the rest of the body, as well as those of most other pterosaurs. Although the wing fingers of Dimorphodon are decently sized - they occupy over half the length of the entire arm - the overall wing length is a bit on the small size, at least compared to predicted Dimorphodon masses. At least 3 studies have independently predicted relatively high wing loading in Dimorphodon, suggesting those relatively big skulls and legs were not accommodated for with increases in wingspan. First-principle interpretations of these results - that Dimorphodon flight may have been a bit more fraught and energy-demanding than similarly-sized pterosaurs - is being borne out in assessments of wing shape (Witton 2008) and flight studies (which I'll be talking about at Flugsaurier 2015). I went so far in 2008 as to suggest that Dimorphodon was a 'reluctant flier', because its predicted wing parameters seemed to closely match those of game birds and other woodland avians - those which take flight when they have no alternative, and keep their flight durations short (see illustration at top of post). Early indications from more detailed assessments are that aspects of flight we normally assume for pterosaurs - soaring and gliding - may well have been challenging, or effectively impossible, for Dimorphodon. These predictions of a heavyset pterosaur by myself and others are something of a first for flying reptile studies: mostly, we've remarked about how lightweight and glide-efficient pterosaurs were, not the opposite.

The Puffinodon: another palaeoart meme? 

What sort of lifestyle did Dimorphodon lead? Considering we're talking about a pterosaur, you can almost guarantee that someone has proposed that Dimorphodon ate fish. Some authors - perhaps Bakker (1986) was the first - have noted similarity between the skull of Dimorphodon and that of puffins, taking this to mean that these animals lived similar lives of diving into the water in pursuit of nektonic prey. Lots of artists have been inspired by this idea.


The palaeoart meme of 'Puffinodon'. Note that related puffin-inspired Dimorphodon art, not shown here, exists where dark body colours contrast with a variably coloured, vertically-striped bill. I'm as guilty of the latter as anyone.
The 'Puffinodon' concept doesn't do very well under testing. For one, the skulls of Dimorphodon and puffins aren't really that alike. Most of what makes up the deep cranial profile of puffin bills is soft-tissue, not bone. Moreover, puffins and other diving birds have wings well-adapted for 'flight' under water in that their wing bones are somewhat flattened, with thick bone walls. Dimorphodon wings, by contrast, are actually broader in some respects than those of other pterosaurs (stay tuned for more on that), and there are no indications that it had thickened bone walls. To the contrary, there are indications that its postcrania was pneumatised, at least in part.

That's the skull of Atlantic puffin (Fratercula arctica) on the left, Dimorphodon on the right. Grey shading indicates soft-tissue. Puffin skull modified from Schufeldt (1889).
So what did Dimorphodon eat? A comprehensive study of early pterosaur skulls and teeth concluded that Dimorphodon jaws were well-suited to a diet of insects, carrion and small vertebrates (Ősi 2011). That actually chimes pretty well other interpretations of Dimorphodon palaeobiology: there are indications that Dimorphodon was an adept climber, a fast runner, and - as discussed above - possibly flight restricted. A diet of insects and small vertebrates fits with these assessments of locomotor habits suited to terrestrial realms pretty well, and we might imagine Dimorphodon as better adapted to chasing down lepidosaurs and large beetles than it was diving for fish. Indeed, there are some pretty cool aspects of Dimorphodon anatomy indicating it may have been really at home on land - as in, as much as pterodactyloids were. This might come as a surprise to some, seeing as non-pterodactyloids have largely been thought of as terrestrially inept. We'll have to wait just a bit longer before I can talk about those, however.

So that's Dimorphodon in a few paragraphs, then: nothing like the animal we'll be seeing this summer at the cinema, and perhaps nothing much like other pterosaurs, either. If early pterosaurs and their lifestyles are your thing, stay tuned for some new ideas on that very soon.

References


  • Bakker, R. T. (1986). The Dinosaur Heresies. London: Penguin.
  • Henderson, D. M. (2010). Pterosaur body mass estimates from three-dimensional mathematical slicing. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 30(3), 768-785.
  • Ősi, A. (2011). Feeding‐related characters in basal pterosaurs: implications for jaw mechanism, dental function and diet. Lethaia, 44(2), 136-152.
  • Shufeldt, R. W. (1889). Contributions to the Comparative Osteology of Arctic and Sub-Arctic Water-Birds: Part V. Journal of anatomy and physiology, 24(Pt 1), 89-116.
  • Witton, M. P. (2008). A new approach to determining pterosaur body mass and its implications for pterosaur flight. Zitteliana, 143-158.
  • Witton, M. P. (2013). Pterosaurs: natural history, evolution, anatomy. Princeton University Press.


New paper: walking with early pterosaurs

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Non-pterodactyloids like Dimorphodon macronyx are meant to be slow, sprawling terrestrial locomotors. So what's up with this image of one running with erect limbs? Read on... Prints of this image are available.
Readers interested in flying reptiles will know that a recent, major paradigm shift in our understanding of these animals concerns their terrestrial locomotion. In short, perceptions of pterosaurs as awkward, clumsy terrestrial creatures have been overturned to models of upright, proficient walkers and runners. This reinterpretation is founded on a substantial amount of evidence from skeletal anatomy, trackway data, as well as reconstructions of muscle kinematics, and underpinned recent proposals of terrestrial foraging in some pterosaurs (most famously of course, the azhdarchids - read this for an overview of their research history) - famously stark departures from classic views of pterosaur palaeobiology. However, it is really only pterodactyloids, that group of Jurassic-Cretaceous pterosaurs which contains the majority of pterosaur diversity, that much of this work on terrestriality really applies to. It seems all pterosaur tracks are actually pterodactyloid tracks; most 3D fossils we've used to understand limb joints and motion are pterodactyloid fossils, and most detailed discussions of step cycles, stride lengths and so on are based on pterodactyloid proportions.

Non-pterodactyloids are considered somewhat differently. Our views on early pterosaur walking and running are less researched and more controversial than those of pterodactyloids, and we've seen several ideas on this topic emerge since the 1980s. These include non-pterodactyloids as bird-like bipeds (briefly discussed here); as slow and terrestrially ineffective lizard-like quadrupeds; as quadrupeds which were adept climbers; or quadrupeds with sprawling forelimbs but erect hindlimbs, which had to run bipedally. From these, the notion of early pterosaurs as particularly laboured terrestrial locomotors has emerged dominant. In several cases, this perception has been important when interpreting pterosaur history and biology: how early pterosaurs foraged, their roles in Mesozoic ecosystems, and patterns in their fossil record have all factored in the terrestrial ineptitude of the first flying reptiles (e.g. Unwin 2005; Ősi 2011; Butler et al. 2013). There are three core assumptions forming the foundation of non-pterodactyloid terrestrial incompetency:
  1. The broad, hindlimb-spanning membrane (uropatagium) of early pterosaurs 'shackled' their hindlimbs, preventing anything but slow, shuffling gaits
  2. The absence of pterosaur tracks before the Middle Jurassic demonstrates that these animals rarely walked, allegedly because they were so awful at it
  3. The sprawled limbs of pterosaurs made quadrupedal terrestrial locomotion slow and difficult. 
Pterodactyloids, with their fully erect limbs and split uropatagia, freed themselves from these constraints and 'terrestrialised' the group, leading to the formation of a track record which roughly corresponds to the earliest occurrences of pterodactyloid remains.

All this sounds fine, until the realisation hits that many of these assumptions are on somewhat shaky logical ground. Indeed, available data and well-known specimens can be used to undermine them to the extent that we might want to reconsider the whole 'terrestrially inept non-pterodactyloid' concept. In a new paper, published this week in PeerJ, I've attempted to do just that, outlining how we probably know a lot less about the terrestrial prospects of non-pterodactyloids than some suggest, and that some of our chief assumptions about these animals may very well be incorrect. Being a PeerJ paper means you can read the whole thing for yourself, for free (along with the review history) but let's summarise the main points here, tackling each of the points raised above in turn.

1. Large hindlimb membranes ‘shackled’ early pterosaur legs

Pterosaur and bat uropatagia compared. A, tracing of Sordes pilosus fossil, showing one of our best known uropatagia specimens; B, reconstruction of Rhamphorhynchus skeleton, mapped out with likely membrane distributions for non-pterodactyloids; C, terrestrially-competent vampire species Desmodus rotundus, complete with uropatagium rather like that of non-pterodactyloids. From Witton (2015).
Notions that the proportionally large hindlimb membrane of early pterosaurs (above) would impede terrestrial locomotion are not based on much in the way of detailed analysis of pterosaur soft-tissues. It really is just the size of the membrane, and the fact it was anchored extensively across the leg and fifth toes, which suggests it impeded terrestrial activity. Evidence that this membrane was particularly stiff or unyielding has not been presented, unlike other parts of pterosaur wings, which seem to have been stiffened and reinforced by long fibres. To the contrary, several workers have suggested that pterosaur uropatagia were probably as elastic as other membrane tissues close to the pterosaur body (Unwin and Bakhurina 1994) – those which were flexible enough to permit huge strides and running behaviours recorded in pterosaur trackways. In light of this, suggestions that this organ 'shackled' their hindlimbs seem a bit odd.

Moreover, there are plenty of modern animals with analogous uropatagial structures which locomote terrestrially without problem – examples include several bats with terrestrial capabilities described as being ‘rodent-like’. Many of them even make habits of grounded foraging, digging, crevice-crawling, running, climbing and other complex behaviours. All this occurs without their membranes being damaged, snagged or being otherwise restricting locomotion. Much of this is aided, it seems, by uropatagia being elastic, shrinking away when their limbs are not in flight configuration. Of course, there are some animals with large hindlimb membranes which aren’t particularly hot on the ground, but zoologists have labelled aspects of limb strength and myology as more important here than membrane size. This seems to be a second complication for the idea that large uropatagia were problematic for walking in the way suggested by some pterosaur workers. In concert with what we know of pterosaur membrane anatomy, I'm left wondering what, if any, deleterious effect non-pterodactyloid hindlimb membranes had on their terrestrial prospects.

2. Trackways = terrestrial proficiency

I must admit some surprise that a number of pterosaur workers consider trackway presence and abundance to correlate with terrestrial competency. This is especially so because it is widely acknowledged that the pterosaur fossil record, and that of early pterosaurs in particular, is generally poor. This is not to say that a deficit of early pterosaur tracks is definitely meaningless, but negative evidence is only significant when all other factors are accounted for. To appreciate the deficit of early pterosaur tracks as significant, we’d ideally want to have a good understanding of pterosaur ecology and behaviour, as well as their abundances in habitats suitable to track making. Neither of these are the case at present. Moreover, the track records of many Mesozoic animals are poor, even those which, on paper, have vastly greater track-making potential than early pterosaurs. Examples include widely distributed, entirely terrestrial clades like certain dinosaurs, crocodylomorphs, and mammaliaforms. Even relatively recent, large bodied terrestrial animals – like ceratopsids and tyrannosaurs – have track occurrences countable on the digits of one hand, despite their increased bulk ensuring that they leave deeper, long-lasting and theoretically more-preservable prints. Needless to say, applying 'pterosaur logic' to these animals - assuming that they avoided making tracks because of terrestrial ineptitude, and were reliant on other means of transportation - leads to some... interesting ideas on other potential forms of locomotion.

Revised locomotion in tyrant dinosaurs, ceratopsids and mammaliaforms, brought to you by the 'no footprints = terrestrial competency' hypothesis.
Of course, no-one thinks the lack of footprints in these groups is anything to do with terrestrial competency. The fossil record is full of strange quirks reflecting a secret recipe of ancient animal behaviours, taphonomy, sampling, interpretation, and plain serendipity, so scare track data may have no significance at all. Or it might. We don't know, because we can't account for all variables. But that doesn't matter, because what we can do is use available data - that of limb functionality - to draw conclusions about the terrestrial prospects of these groups. That has to trump an absent track record, because we cannot test the significance of our conclusions on a negative dataset. Until we know more about early pterosaur functionality, ascribing the absence of a footprint record to their terrestrial capacity is probably getting ahead of ourselves, and puts the approach of pterosaur researchers at odds with other branches of vertebrate palaeontology.

3.All non-pterodactyloids had sprawling forelimbs

I’m going to cut to the chase here by pointing out that evidence for sprawling pterosaur hindlimbs is not especially strong – most arguments made to support it are now a little old-school, to the extent that they conflict with modern approaches to assessing limb joint function. There’s been a lot of work done on pterosaur hindlimb posture and it seems all flying reptiles had at least upright hindquarters - let's leave that there. But what about sprawling forelimbs? Certainly some early pterosaurs – specifically rhamphorhynchines, and probably ‘campylognathoidids’ - had to sprawl, because their glenoids (shoulder joints) restricted movement of the humerus below the shoulder itself. Their articular surface allows for plenty of room for movement above the shoulder, and some room for fore-and-aft motion, but a large bony ridge prohibits the forelimb adopting anything like an upright pose. This isn't controversial: several authors have already noticed this.

However, several non-pterodactyloid specimens seem to have rather different glenoid morphologies to those of rhamprhorhynchines and 'campylognathoidids'. Species like Dimorphodon macronyx, and perhaps some wukongopterids, have shoulder girdles which lack that ventrally-restrictive bony stop. Instead, their glenoids which are ventrally open, the articular surfaces wrapping around the underside of the glenoid body to meet the shoulder girdle itself rather than a jut of bone. This morphology is borne out by several three-dimensional Dimorphodon glenoid specimens and is unlikely to represent chance distortion of a glenoid into a more 'open' morphology. These specimens seem to indicate that at least some early pterosaurs were capable of tucking their forelimbs underneath their bodies.

Variation in early pterosaur shoulder girdles. Images on the left shown the shoulder joint of Dimorphodon macronyx - note how the (shaded) articular surface extends to the underside of the glenoid (bottom image, and left photograph) to make a ventrally-open shoulder joint. By contrast, the glenoids of certain other non-pterodactyloids (images top right) have articular surfaces only on the dorsal and lateral glenoid surface: the ventral is blocked by a bony ridge. In this morph, the humerus clearly cannot rotate much beneath the shoulder at all. A schematic of the ranges of motion offered by these two shoulder types is shown at bottom right. From Witton (2015).
It’s not a given, however, that the ability to fully adduct a limb correlates with a habitually upright stance: range of motion alone tells us little about habitual joint postures. Is there anything in early pterosaur anatomy to suggest which forelimb postures these animals preferred? Potentially, yes: the end of their humeri. Recent work on the forelimbs of quadrupedal tetrapods has identified anatomical correlates of routine sprawling and erect postures in elbow skeletons (Fujiwara and Hutchinson 2012). Because these joints have to take the strain of standing, different poses emphasise the development of characteristic muscle groups and their corresponding bony attachment sites. Having positively tested this thoroughly on modern animals, we can start to use it on fossil ones, including pterosaurs. Fujiwara and Hutchinson (2012) have already looked at pterodactyloid humeri and suggest they have all the right features for an upright limb. Ergo, if we see pterodactyloid-like humeral morphologies in earlier pterosaurs, they might have had upright limbs, too.

Pterosaur humeri in anterior view, showing variation in distal humeral shape in non-pterodactyloids (A–F) and pterodactyloids (G–I). A-B, Dimorphodon macronyx; C, Archaeoistiodactylus linglongtaensis (a likely wukongopterd); D, Rhamphorhynchus muensteri; E-F, Dorygnathus banthensis; G, Pteranodon sp; H, Montanazhdarcho minor; I, Dsungaripterus weii. Note how Dimorphodon and Archaeoistiodactylus are far more pterodactyloid like in humeral morphology than Rhamphorhynchus or Dorygnathus: does this implicate erect limbs in some early pterosaur species? Scale bars represent 10 mm, except for G and H, which equal 50 mm. From Witton (2015).
As with shoulder anatomy, it turns out there some potentially significant variation here. Rhamphorhynchines and (probably) 'campylognathoidids' - taxa seemingly confined to sprawling - have humeri which are quite different from those of pterodactyloids. Their elbows are very narrow, being little wider than the condyles necessary to articulate the forearm. This fits well with the predictions of Fujiwara and Hutchinson, because we would expect pterosaurs confined to sprawling to have different anatomy to tall-standing pterodactyloids. Dimorphodon and wukongopterids - those pterosaurs with less restrictive shoulder joints - have a different elbow anatomy however: a distal humerus which is broadly expanded beyond the margins of the forearm articulations. In virtually all details, these humeri have distal ends very similar to what we see in pterodactyloids and, all else being equal, that might imply a similar loading regime at their elbows. We might take this an an indication that upright postures were adopted regularly in these non-pterodactyloids, which marries nicely with observations made about their ability to tuck their forelimbs under their bodies. The idea that Dimorphodon and wukongopterids were also sprawlers is less parsimonious because we have to explain why some early pterosaur humeri don’t resemble those of obligate sprawlers, but instead look so similar to those of pterosaurs we’re confident had erect forelimbs.

This observation might be quite significant for considerations of terrestrial abilities in early pterosaurs. Sprawling postures are not as restrictive to locomotion as some pterosaur literature suggests (sprawling does not limit its users to slow crawling, and is actually quite useful for certain habits, like climbing or accelerating quickly), but there might be something to the idea that upright locomotion is better for sustained, active terrestrial habits. Indications that the likes of Dimorphodon and wukongopterids were capable of walking on fully erect limbs, without impedance from their uropatagia, suggest they have greater terrestrial potential than previously anticipated. Perhaps our views on the likely habits of non-pterodactyloids might benefit from further research.

Further indications of terrestriality?

The possibility that some early pterosaurs had erect forelimbs is only one indication that these taxa may have been more terrestrially adept than we’ve previously considered. I think our views on these animals have been biased by the familiarity of taxa like Rhamphorhynchus: these sprawling, slender-limbed species with oversize forelimbs don’t look like the hottest terrestrial locomotors in town (see Dorygnathus illustration, below), and this perception may have bled into our consideration of non-pterodactyloids as a whole. In actuality, taxa like Dimorphodon, Preondactylus, anurognathids and others have pretty chunky, proportionate limbs: we could take their wing fingers away and they still look capable of looking after themselves using terrestrial locomotion alone. Several authors have noted features indicative of strong running and leaping abilities in early pterosaur hindlimbs, and this might apply to their forelimbs too.

It’s also intriguing to note that some features found in pterosaur digits – sesamoids immediately above and behind their claws – are only otherwise found in terrestrial reptiles (lots of squamates and one fossil stem-turtle, Proganochelys). No-one seems to know exactly what function these antungual sesamoids perform, but I've speculated that they are related to claw contact with hard surfaces. Sesamoids seem to mostly offer two functions: enhancing joint leverage or protecting tendons from extremes of motion. Claws routinely deflected backwards by contact with substrata might necessitate a bony element in the tendon to ensure nutrient flow to the tendon is maintained, or else to facilitate better leverage when actively hyperextending claws to prevent claw blunting. It's difficult to think what else a sesamoid above and behind a claw can really help with, especially given their occurrence in animals as different as pterosaurs, lizards and a stem-turtle. I'm not the first to suggest pterosaurs could retract their claws (Frey et al. 2003), and some sort of hyperextension would explain the large digital articular surfaces seen in pterosaurs with antungual sesamoids compared to those lacking them. Again, there is clearly need for more research here, but the take-home is that this anatomical aspect of non-pterodactyloids is only mirrored in terrestrial animals, and might present another feature signifying greater terrestriality than expected in early pterosaurs.

Tying this all together

A 'traditional' view of a non-pterodactyloid standing posture: Dorygnathus banthensis with sprawling forelimbs. How the development of this feature fits into pterosaur evolution remains to be seen: earlier pterosaurs (both stratigraphically and phylogenetically) may have stood quite differently. Prints of this image are available.
It's noteworthy that features proposed as potentially signifying terrestriality in early pterosaurs are not neatly mappable to any current concept of non-pterodactyloid phylogeny. Even comparatively simple models of early pterosaur evolution show complex changes in shoulder girdle morphs, humeral anatomy and and limb robustness as we trace evolutionary pathways up the tree. Nevertheless, the potential for upright postures, running behaviours and other features of proficient terrestriality seem deeply rooted in Pterosauria because some of the oldest, 'most basal' pterosaurs possess such indicative anatomy. A lot of what is said here complements ideas already in pterosaur literature. To use a well-studied example, there are lots of hints that the Lower Jurassic Dimorphodon was terrestrially adapted: it seems proportionally heavy to the extent of impeding flight potential, has been strongly suggested to have a diet of insects and small vertebrates, and has a suite of features suited to climbing (see the previous post). Combine these with the possibility of erect limbs, subcursorial limb proportions, robust extremities and so on, and we've got a pretty good argument for Dimorphodon being terrestrially competent, and maybe even adapted for a primarily terrestrial existence. It's hard to think of a lifestyle more opposing to traditional interpretations of non-pterodactyloid palaeobiology than that, but a multitude of disparate research projects seem to be collectively pointing that way.

In all, my point for writing this synthesis paper is to demonstrate how little we've really looked into the terrestrial prospects of early pterosaur species. If even basic variation in their limb arthrology remain poorly studied, how can we claim to understand their terrestrial prospects or plug our models into our Big Picture of Pterosaur Evolution? Even if everything I've said here ends up being challenged, I hope at least this new paper stimulates some detailed research into this rather poorly explored area of pterosaurology. Until that happens, my suggestion is that we avoid blanket-statements about the terrestrial prospects of non-pterodactyloids.

Those interested in early pterosaur funky morph might be interested to know that I'm talking about the flight performance of Dimorphodon at Flugsaurier 2015. Registration is open until 30th June, so get your interest registered quickly!

References

  • Butler, R. J., Benson, R. B., & Barrett, P. M. (2013). Pterosaur diversity: Untangling the influence of sampling biases, Lagerstätten, and genuine biodiversity signals. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology, 372, 78-87.
  • Frey, E., Tischlinger, H., Buchy, M. C., & Martill, D. M. (2003). New specimens of Pterosauria (Reptilia) with soft parts with implications for pterosaurian anatomy and locomotion. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 217(1), 233-266.
  • Fujiwara, S. I., & Hutchinson, J. R. (2012). Elbow joint adductor moment arm as an indicator of forelimb posture in extinct quadrupedal tetrapods. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B: Biological Sciences, 279(1738), 2561-2570.
  • Ősi, A. (2011). Feeding‐related characters in basal pterosaurs: implications for jaw mechanism, dental function and diet. Lethaia, 44(2), 136-152.
  • Unwin, D. M. (2005) The pterosaurs from deep time. Pi Press.
  • Uwnin, D. M., & Bakhurina, N. (1994). Sordes pilosus and the nature of the pterosaur flight apparatus. Nature, 371(6492), 62-64.
  • Witton, M. P. (2015). Were early pterosaurs inept terrestrial locomotors? PeerJ 3:e1018; DOI 10.7717/peerj.1018

On Jurassic World and real 'raptors': Velociraptor, Deinonychus and Achillobator

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The online palaeontological community has no shortage of words on the recently released Jurassic World movie – most of them concerning the deplorable disregard for the last two decades of dinosaur science. What of the movie itself? The critical response seems to divided, most reviewing it as a great popcorn movie, and the rest as a predictable, sexist and cynical summer film. My own take is the latter: Jurassic World was just another forgettable, contrived entry in the Jurassic Park franchise, best noted for having the worst effects, silliest plot, and most outmoded characters of the entire series. Never quite sure if it’s making fun of modern franchise culture or revelling in it, the convoluted story revolves around (SPOILER ALERT) hokey family values, dinosaur-dinosaur team ups, dinosaur-human team ups and weaponised artificial species to form a plot akin to a particularly dumb, low-grade B-movie. There are some good ideas in there that could, in isolation, make for interesting science fiction, but there’s so much going on that nothing has a chance to develop: plot threads are introduced, contradicted and abandoned with rapidity. Most of the story is churned along by really contrived, forehead-slappingly stupid decisions made by the characters, and the pandering to the ‘awesomebro’ crowd is, at times, shameless. Was I the only person cringing when two characters told us, in weirdly meta-fashion, how ‘awesome’ and ‘badass’ they thought the (already shark-jumping) motorcycle/Velociraptor scenario was? In all, while I can’t say I strongly disliked Jurassic World, its few redeeming features are undermined by the contrivances, tropes and fan-servicing, over-stuffed plot, and flat characters. After two other disappointing sequels, Jurassic World is yet another demonstration that the Jurassic franchise really needs to evolve away from the original film to remain interesting. Predictably, it’s made a truckload of money already.

Anyway, this isn’t a review of Jurassic World: we’re here to talk about dromaeosaurs (yeah, not ‘raptors’: sorry, Jurassic fans, but another set of dinosaurs have held priority to ‘raptor’ since 1873). The velociraptors are back in force in Jurassic World, in all their leathery-skinned, broken-wristed, overtoothed glory. Of all the Jurassic World dinosaurs, the velociraptors have moved furthest from being relatively ‘believable’ animals in the first movie to the realm of true sci-fi monster. By Jurassic World, the behavioural and physical attributes they’ve gained in each sequel has finally made them totally unstoppable killing machines, demonstrably invulnerable to all damage except when the script calls for it (and thus largely removing their potential for being thrilling characters or antagonists. Oh, wait, we're not reviewing the film!). Inspired by their movie cousins, I thought I’d share some recently completed dromaeosaurid palaeoart here. Without appreciating it, presenting these three images together acts as a foil to the Jurassic depiction of dromaeosaurs, showing these animals as exploitative and flawed creatures, and as products of natural evolution, rather than reptilian versions of Geiger’s Alien. As usual, prints of all these images are available to purchase from my print store.

Velociraptor: picking on the little guy

Famous dromaeosaurid Velociraptor mongoliensis chases a juvenile oviraptorosaur, Citipati osmolskae. The oviraptorosaur parent doesn't approve.

First up is Velociraptor mongoliensis, the dog-sized namesake of the Jurassic dromaeosaurs. In this revised image (the first version of which topped another Jurassic World inspired piece) Velociraptor is shown predating a much smaller theropod, a juvenile oviraptorosaur Citipati osmolskae. The idea emphasised here is that, like most predators, Velociraptor probably hunted easily dispatched and overpowered prey, like juvenile animals, rather than larger, more dangerous individuals. A distressed oviraptorosaur parent is shown in the background as attempting to scare the predator off, arms extended, jaws agape, probably making a lot of noise. It strikes me this is the ‘classic’ palaeoart pose so often depicted as leaping from canvases to our faces – I think it works a lot better in the context of a full scene rather than in isolation. The Velociraptor is adorned with two small feather fans on its snout, structures for which we have no direct evidence, but which don’t seem too audacious in light of some cranial display features of modern predators.

Deinonychus: superklutz

Deinonychus antirrhopus: Deadly. Savage. Clumsy.

Next is another famous dromaeosaur, the North American species Deinonychus antirrhopus. This image was commissioned by ReBecca Hunt-Foster for the Utah Bureau of Land Management, as part of a public display on the Mill Canyon Dinosaur Tracksite. This Cedar Mountain Formation locality, once a scummy, slimy shallow body of water, preserves a multitude of sauropod, ornithopod and theropod tracks, including several belonging to dromaeosaurs. We call these tracks Dromaeosauripus, and at Mill Canyon their most likely trackmaker is Deinoynchus, it being a Cedar Mountain Formation species of correct stratigraphic provenance and appropriate size to make these specific Dromaeosauripus traces. Some of the Mill Canyon Dromaeosauripus tracks record running animals, which is pretty neat: it’s hard not to wonder what impetus made these animals charge over the Mill Canyon microbial mat 100 million years ago.

Alongside some of these tracks are long gouges in the ancient mud seemingly made by two-toed animals losing their grip on the substate, wobbling about before regaining their balance – are these the tracks of noble Deinonychus almost falling over? Quite possibly, although it’s not definite that they record the same individuals as those leaving the charging Dromaeosauripus prints.

ReBecca thought it would be fun to demonstrate that some Mill Canyon dinosaurs weren’t the most sure-footed of creatures, and requested my services to do so. I was happy to do this. In any sustained bout of animal observation it becomes apparent that all species routinely trip, slip and blunder about in the way that we do, and recreating this seemed a wonderful alternative to our regular diet of epic and ‘awesome’ palaeoart. The fact this image features Deinonychus is even better: even outside of Jurassic Park, dromaeosaurs are regularly depicted as particularly ferocious, cunning predators, earning them the nickname of ‘lions of the Cretaceous’. Well, awesomebros, here's our noble, cunning Cretaceous lion picking a whole bunch of oopsie-daisies, while a couple of normal Deinonychus prey items – Tenontosaurus– look out from the far distance and laugh.

Achillobator: giant dromaeosaur, silly hat

Giant Mongolian dromaeosaurid Achillobator giganticus ominously excavating the burrow of a small dinosaur. Azhdarchid pterosaurs gather to collect the dislodged bugs.

The Late Cretaceous, Mongolian species Achillobator giganticus is not a household name, but that may well change over time. This species is large bodied (only second to Utahraptor in the dromaeosaurid size game) and robust, bearing a deep snout, stout limbs and a large set of hips. It probably wasn’t a fast runner, but all indications are that it was a powerful predator suited to wrestling and grappling, perhaps ideally suited to ambushing larger prey. In this illustration, I’ve speculated that the powerful limb girdles and appendages of Achillobator are for a specific purpose: digging out and killing burrowing reptiles. Lots of tetrapods, including lineages around in the Mesozoic, were burrowers: fossorial activities are known in extinct and modern dinosaurs, as well as crocodylomorphs, certain lepidosaurs, and stem-mammals. The Mesozoic was thus likely full of burrowing species, and it’s not crazy to think that powerful predators could trap and excavate these animals from their own homes with the right equipment. In the scenario depicted above, the robust feet and enlarged hips of Achillobator make for powerful digging tools, while the short but powerful arms are ready to catch and grapple with escaping animals. If their prey doesn’t emerge voluntarily, those feather crowns will block burrow entrances once the head and jaws are inserted to extract the animals directly – this is a nod to the cranial form of Tibetan foxes, which have wide heads for the same purpose.

Of course, this image and concept is little more than an All Yesterdays-style speculation – to be honest, we don’t really have enough of the Achillobator skeleton to know exactly what it did for a living. Nevertheless, following another run with the Jurassic movies, I find it refreshing, grounding and intriguing to think of large dromaeosaurs as real products of evolution, as creatures adapted to the environment they lived in, and the species they coexisted with. As is often the case, reality ends up being far more interesting than fiction.

OK, that’s all for now. If you’d like to know more about the diversity of ‘real’ dromaeosaurs and other feathered dinosaurs, I heartily recommend Matthew Martyniuk’s excellent Field Guide to Mesozoic Birds and other Winged Dinosaurs.

A year of Tyrannosaurus rex artworks

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A minor milestone was reached this week at my print store - there's now 50 different bits of art in there. Given that I only started selling prints less than a year ago, I'm happy to see some substantial growth in my catalogue already (albeit with some cheating - many are 'reworked' older pieces, rather than entirely new bits). Lots more will be available in the near future - I'm holding several bits back for various reasons, including a project I'll elaborate more on soon. Working on these in relative secret is why things have been a bit quiet around her for the last month.

Teasers of unreleased artwork: Troodon, Repenomamus, diminutive azhdarchid and Diplodocus. We'll revisit the reason for holding these back in due time.
Scanning through my shop revealed an unexpected bias in my output this year. I make an effort to portray varying subjects and taxa, and find most interest in reconstructing lesser depicted species, scenarios and behaviour. I don't think I do too badly with this - at least within the context of Mesozoic reptiles - so was surprised to find 5 images dedicated to the same species, and one which has been painted, sculpted, animated and rendered to death: Tyrannosaurus rex. Two of these were commissions, but that still leaves three on my own head. I'm forced to concede that I must be a closet Tyrannosaurus fan - I had no idea.

I thought it would be fun to show the last year's worth of king tyrant art: some of them may still be fresh in your memory, but two are new (well, reworked). I realise that I've almost got a growth series across these images, and I've ordered them according to this. As usual, you can grab high quality art prints of these from my store.

Tyrant dinosaurs vs. bees. Bees are winning. Click here for prints.
First up is my tyrants and bees, the image I created to raise money for various bee charity causes in February of this year. Auctioning a framed version and sales of prints raised £249 for the Bumblebee Conservation Trust and a £30 contribution for a new beehive at the Cumberland House Natural History Museum, who also received the image for use on a display board. As you may remember, it shows two infant tyrants checking out a honey bee nest, molecular data indicating that honey bee ancestors were alive in the Late Cretaceous. My favourite bit of the image remains the smaller animal on the right, losing the battle with tiny arthropods. I like the fact its arms aren't really long enough to cover its eyes.

Resting rexes, and bonus moths. Click here for prints.
Next is Chidumebi Browne's reclined teenage Tyrannosaurus commission, from November 2014. These animals are heavily based on BMRP 2002.4.1, the probable half-size Tyrannosaurus with proportions and facial structure quite different to large adults. Of course, some would argue that this makes this image feature Nanotyrannus, but I don't want to get into that here. Those wanting to open that can of worms may want to read Thomas Carr's blog post (and comments) on this topic, as well as Mark Wildman's take on the same debate. 

Dating tip: romantic sunsets don't count for much when you're crushing your partner's skull. If you fancy a physical copy of this scene of violent tyrannosaur copulation, you might be a bit odd. Nevertheless, prints are here.
Something new now - a reworked take on my mating, neck-biting tyrants. Those with long memories will recall the first guise of this image appeared in 2013 with my comments on All Your Yesterdays, the crowd-sourced follow up to All Yesterdays. As explained in that post, a number of tyrants show evidence of having been bitten around the jaws and head, with the area around the braincase of some specimens being badly damaged. I'd been looking at Savannah monitors shortly before rendering the original of this, and found their toughened neck skin - which apparently exists because of rough copulatory behaviour - of interest. I tend to have half my mind on prehistoric animals when looking at modern ones, and it wasn't long before I was wondering if some Tyrannosaurus injuries were the result of similarly violent nuptial encounters. This reworked version includes some very minor anatomical tweaks, slight colouration changes, and a vastly more detailed background.

Triceratops and Tyrannosaurus: finally bro-dogs. Get printed up here.
Another commission from Chidumebi Browne resulted one of the strangest pictures I know of featuring Tyrannosaurus - but hopefully one which is interesting and thought provoking. Alongside this big female (note the similar colour to the red teenage animal in Chidumebi's first commission - this is the grown up version of a female in that 'universe') is a baby Triceratops, the idea being that it's been interspecifically adopted by the tyrant. I provided a long commentary on this image and the likelihood of the scenario back in March, concluding that this image might not be as crazy as it first seems. Quite a few modern animals - including dinosaurs - are known to kidnap or inherit the offspring of other species, although there's not always clear explanations for why it happens. I tried to imply a bit of a story in Chidumebi's concept, those marauding adults in the distance taking clear, hungry interest in the Triceratops infant. I get the feeling this scene wouldn't stay peaceful for long.

A Late Cretaceous evening, ruled by an especially robust tyrant. You can own a copy of him if you click here.  
Finally, one more new image: a major overhaul of one of the first images posted at this blog (end 2012). Changes include anatomical tweaks, a revised pose (now trotting, not standing), new colouration (the cranial pattern is a nod to the judge helmets in Dredd, because scientists predict Tyrannosaurus are some of the few things in life more badass than that movie) and a heck of a lot more background detail. The depicted animal is a 'robust'Tyrannosaurus morph - note it seems the 'robust' and 'gracile' forms are extremes of anatomical variation rather than distinct categories. My goal here was to make the animal look big and heavy - appreciating that tyrants are relatively long-legged and gracile for their size, they're still absolutely huge. I thought of bears a lot when painting this chap - I wanted him to have that same imposing aspect without going all 'awesomebro' on it. Tyrannosaurs - especially big ones - should look like animals you'd instinctively keep a good distance from.

OK, that's all for now. Soon, hopefully, some details on that project alluded to above. 

Where next for the Jurassic Park movies?

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Which creative direction would you take one of the most successful movie franchises of all time? Apparently, I would start by desaturating it of all colour. Read on to find out more.
To the surprise of no-one, the mega-successful, $1.5 billion box office juggernaut Jurassic World is getting a sequel. If you’re part of the broader contingent who thought the film was silly fun, that’s probably good news. If, like me, you thought the film was lacking in some areas, you may be less excited. Regardless, speculation is now rife about what the film will cover, and where it will pick up the sequel-bait left dangling at the end of the last film. Despite being less than bowled over with the Jurassic World, 22 years of investment in the franchise and obvious interest in the palaeo-theme of the series means I’m still curious about where this franchise goes. I’ve been involved in a lot of Jurassic World dissections online as well as with real human beings, throwing ideas around for what might work in another Jurassic instalment, as well as what could be maintained or improved on from the other films. The process has led to a lot of ideas and even some rough pictures which I thought I’d share here. Note this post contains mild spoilers for Jurassic World. 

Where the series stands

Any opinion about the future of a series is reliant on opinions of the existing products. Hence, it seems sensible to provide some context on where I think the Jurassic films stand before delving into ideas for new films. From conversations with others and reading lots of reviews, I get the feeling that my view is similar to many others: the Jurassic films are very samey, the sequels aren’t especially well structured, and the franchise needs fresh ideas. 

Let’s unpack that a bit. All four films have the same setting (tropical island theme parks which go wrong, or tropical islands where things have already gone wrong), similar characters (kids, a grumpy/cynical lead, a corporate scumbag, a romantic couple of two headstrong individuals) and the same major scenes (the ‘giant dinosaur vs. vehicle attack, which strands victims from civilisation’ scene, a Velociraptor chase, a panning shot of glorious dinosaurs in harmony with nature, exploring abandoned/ruined buildings etc.). Similarly, by at most the 50% run time mark, each film becomes the same 'chased by dinosaurs' skit. Even the new elements brought in for Jurassic World– dinosaur hybrids (we’ll get to those in a moment) – didn’t alter this: the role Indominus was interchangeable with that of the Tyrannosaurus or Spinosaurus from the previous movies. 

This repetition might stem from knowing what has pleased audiences in the past, but perhaps also the limited narrative scope available to the Jurassic films. Those elements more-or-less define the franchise, and jettisoning them risks losing much of what we identify with the brand. This is probably why the original Jurassic sequels were just the first film without the theme park-backdrop, and why Jurassic World was basically a ‘reimagined’ version of the original. All three follow-ups are extremely conservative from a creative perspective, mostly trading on nostalgia for the first film. It might be argued that this inability to move out of the shadow of the original might indicate Jurassic Park was better left as a contained, single story. I think there's some truth to that, but, whatever, the sequels are happening. It’s clear that avoiding/escaping (chose your own words there) sequel mediocrity is reliant on creativity being shot into the franchise in the form of a new direction or focus, or maybe even a genre transition. I'd wager that the success of the franchise relies on the next film pulling this off.

The right plot, and right level of complexity, is also important for the next film, because the last three movies have each had real issues with these. The first two sequels were seemingly bored and uninterested in their own story (The Lost World) or so underwritten that they seemed to just run out of ideas (Jurassic Park III). Jurassic World, by contrast, had enough going on to fill two or three films. The result was the same as being underwritten: poor characterisation, a loss of atmosphere and tension, and plot devices straining to get the story running. As an example, look at how brief and daft the release of hyper-dangerous Indominus was: folks who’ve watched this animal grow up are shocked they can no longer see her (so she waited years to do her camouflage tricks?); trained experts don’t check for basic equipment faults before waltzing into her pen without any concern or protection; trained experts get scared; trained experts open her cage door, allowing her to escape. Compare that to the original, where the very threat dangerous animals escaping is a key issue, built up over a long period of time. There's discussion from characters, establishment of the level of security across the island, introduction of important location, the animals are teased, and their escape is revealed via tense, iconic scenes. Jurassic World raced through this important, potentially dramatic story point so quickly and nonsensically that it had no weight or impact, as it did for virtually all other potentially interesting scenes, because there was so much else to cram in. With Jurassic sequel plots being either too simple, or too crowded. 

There are allusions that the Jurassic series recognises that it has issues with repetition, Jurassic World effectively rebooting the series to take the story off elsewhere. I must admit to not liking the direction being hinted at now - militarised dinosaurs, weaponised hybrids and so on – and hope they abandon them for the next film. To me, this is the least interesting direction this franchise can take, it being both a recognised storycliché as well as promising little more than extended CGI dinosaur battle sequences no more interesting than watching someone play a video game. 

And we already have lots of palaeoart which does that for us.
We're already at saturation point for movies like that, and despite their box office success, their appeal is not universal. I find it odd that we were all laughing at those abandoned human-dinosaur hybrid concepts for the fourth Jurassic film – but what Jurassic World hinted at isn’t a million miles off that. I'm sure there are lots of interesting ideas that could be explored without turning this franchise into live action Dino Riders.
All that said, if that's where I think we stand with this franchise, where do we go next?

Introduce a genuinely new fossil species: our own ancestors

Movie algebra dictates that primitive humans + dinosaurs + modern day setting = vehicular mayhem. 
The last two Jurassic movies have tried to add novelty by introducing new dinosaurs. The problem with this is that dinosaurs, as antagonists, only offer slight variations on a theme. So how about introducing something really different: put fossil human species into the films. I’m thinking specifically of early Homo species here: things with obvious anatomical differences to modern humans, but also similar enough that they could be played equally for eeriness or sympathy. This seems like such ripe ground for storytelling, and could be framed as a publicity seeking exercise in a park setting (museum exhibitions of our own fossil history are pretty popular after all, and apes are often 'star animals' of zoos) or as a nefarious means to have human-like subjects for commercial or scientific exploitation.

The social and ethical issues of creating, caging and exploiting very human-like species make for numerous interesting points of discussion and impetus for plot developments. Where is the line between caging an animal and a person? What rights do stem-humans have? What rights do artificially-created stem humans have? How would people react to seeing their own recent ancestry behind glass and fences? Is it right to use our close relatives for entertainment, and if not, where is the line between them and other animals? What I like about this concept is that strong messages can be implied with subtlety – even the design of human enclosures would be meaningful - allowing for an adventure story to play out with layers of subtext beneath. Our ancestors would also add a whole new dynamic to the franchise as antagonists, being resourceful, tool-using, intelligent and emotional adversaries. It’s easy to imagine how an escaped ‘movieised’ stem-human could really put a spanner in the works any smoothly running facility. From a filmmaking perspective, we could see this as bringing classic components of classic dinosaur b-movies (cavemen) to modern audiences, and minus the cheesiness associated with those characters: fur bikinis, grunting language and so forth. 

Do the ‘hybrid species’ thing properly

It was almost a given that the lacklustre design of the Jurassic World hybrid species will be brought up here, but for good reason: it was a huge missed opportunity. I know Indominus has defenders, but the design is just so uninspired and the potential wasted. For anyone familiar with palaeoart, Indominus is just an animated version of John Sibbick’s 1985 Allosaurusrestoration, whitened and with spikes. For movie goers, the hyped abilities of the animal were pointless outside of two scenes, and pretty redundant even there. As is well known by now, artist Brian Engh launched the #BuildaBetterFakeTheropod Twitter campaign as a response to the dull design of Indominus, encouraging artists to upload more interesting concepts for a genetically modified dinosaur. What a treasure trove of ideas that turned out to be! There’s several images there which could be key drawings to launch whole movies. If you've not checked it out yet, go and take a look now. I can wait.

A 25 m long, pseudotoothed beastie with prehensile feet. It kills SUVs for sport.
What is readily apparent from these works is that there's real horror potential in the Jurassic films: it’s actually pretty easy to make a creepy, scary dinosaur antagonist, even if you just blend elements of modern and fossil theropods. Keep those guys off camera for as long as possible, shoot them in the dark and shadows, and we could have a movie full of scares akin to tenser scenes from the firstJurassic movie. If we’re after a genre shift, a Jurassic film akin to Aliens (which the last film already nods to) might be neat: a siege movie where the hybrid creatures are scary, rarely glimpsed, powerful and barely understood by the film’s characters. Or a film where human characters, lost in some wilderness, simply have to survive being followed and hunted by weird, dinosaur-like creatures while they search for rescue. There’s potential for some interesting character-led films there, the protagonists stewing in an increasingly tense, hopeless situation as strange-looking animals close in. Push that 12A/PG-13 rating to its limit!

"Say, did you remember to flick the gene for determinate growth?""...whoops."
If not horror, then why not use the hybrids is to enter ‘classic’ monster movie territory? Make the creatures really outlandish and huge, ala those of 50s B-movies, and more like unleashing a natural disaster than a rouge animal. This was the idea behind the #BuildaBetterFakeTheropod entry above, which is a play on hyperbole already associated with dinosaurs as the 'biggest animals ever'. Well, this hybrid is quite literally the biggest animal ever: it makes blue whales look as impressive as tinned sardines. There’s enough movies out there about giant creatures aggressively attacking cities and towns however, so my suggestion would be to make such a creature sympathetic, more King Kong than Pacific Rim. Make it a freak loner, very much an animal in behaviour and attitudes, and persecuted for causing problems by simply existing: eating other dinosaurs to sustain itself (sauropods seem like ideal snacks for this thing) and causing masses of damage whenever it travels across built up areas. In doing so, there’s fun to be had with other species escaping just because this thing trod on an enclosure fence. A tragic ending is, of course, a must for this creature. 

I like the potential for exploring accountability from the Jurassic scientists with this one, real old-school ‘man has gone too far’ stuff, especially given the commercial drive underlying hybrid production in the last film. Some of this was alluded to in Jurassic World when the keeping of Indominus in isolation was discussed: the undercurrent was that scientists made an animal, then made a monster by treating it terribly. This theme was rapidly forgotten (and, indeed, contradicted later on: for an animal supposedly brought up in isolation and with no idea of its own identity, it could identify and communicate with Velociraptor pretty instantaneously…) but, as a seed of an idea, it’s a good one, and may warrant exploration in another film. Needless to say, there's plenty of scope here for spectacle as a giant theropod smashes its way around, as well as for exploration of themes about exploitation of science and nature in pursuit of profit.

Give some dinosaurs actual character, other than roary videogame protagonists

It's a bit like Born Free, but with more Awesomebro potential.
Another new element of Jurassic World was that some dinosaurs were actual characters, with names, motives and everything. Well, I say ‘motives’: like all characters in Jurassic World, their actions were dictated more by plot contrivances than personality. Still, though I expected to dislike all the Velociraptor wrangling stuff, the first few scenes of it showed more potential than I anticipated. I disliked the stuff later on because it just got silly – the motorcycle thing, the Velociraptor/Tyrannosaurus tag team – but a movie which explored that relationship in more depth, and then tested it in a way other than just fighting other dinosaurs, could be interesting. 

Such a story would need to spend more time establishing the dynamics of human/dinosaur interactions than the latest movie, but that needn’t be done in a boring way: Rise of the Planet of the Apes showed how summer blockbusters can work cross-species sci-fi dramas into fast moving stories with big climaxes. We’d need to show Velociraptor as more than just a perpetually roaring, biting machine, and see evidence of intelligence other than that pertaining to finding and killing. We’d also need to feel that it was vulnerable, and thus unlike the other Jurassic films where there’s no consistency to animal mortality (i.e. we see the same injuries happening to different animals, but only some are hurt because of plot demands). I can’t see this forming the focus of a whole movie, but as a concept, I think more could be done with it. Bonus points to the filmmakers if they make a sympathetic, believable dinosaur character, and then have it die at the end, perhaps when rescuing a small boy from a well or barn fire. We could call it Velassieraptors.

Finally, Hollywood knows de-extinction is a real thing, right?

Jurassic World 2: sauropods vs. ecological destabilisation. "The race is ON."
One of the questions commonly asked of palaeontologists is whether cloning extinct animals is ever going to happen. Since the original film, the answer to that has gone from a straight ‘no’ to a ‘well, actually people are genuinely trying to resurrect some recently extinct species’. The core sci-fi concept of the Jurassic films is now reality in the form of de-extinction, and the related idea of rewilding (recreating extinct ecosystems using extant animals, or clones of extinct animals, typically for the purpose of stabilising dynamics of ecosystem or certain habitats). Both are genuine areas of research and discussion, as well as no small amount of controversy. 

A lot of discussions around de-extinction involve the nitty-gritty of reconstructing genetic material (it seems to be extremely difficult to do, even with recently-extinct species), which probably wouldn't transfer that well to film. But both de-extinction and rewilding have pragmatic and ethical issues which are relevant to the Jurassic films. What do you actually do with a resurrected species, other than keep it in a zoo? Let it roam wild somewhere? How many individuals should you make? Who, or what, raises them to adulthood and teaches them how to be whatever they’re meant to be? Who is accountable for the wellbeing of an ‘artificial’ animal? Shouldn’t we be putting these efforts into saving extant species more than resurrected ones? What impact will releasing cloned animals have on existing ecosystems? How precisely do we control and manage these artificial ecosystems?

Bringing some of these to the fore might make for an interesting movie. What do you do with islands overrun with long extinct species? Odds are, most of them will die in the absence of artificially-supplied food sources, so who’s going to step in to sort that out? Should some animals be moved elsewhere to balance out their populations? Could animals be grown and engineered to rewild parts of the world in need of ecologically-stabilising, long-extinct large animals? (That's not hypothetical: such schemes are being proposed and trialled, for real, in many places across the Northern Hemisphere.) Again, there seems to be a wealth of scenarios and stories in those questions, and lots of scope for adventure: rounding up and figuring out what to do with free-roaming dinosaurs, the creation of a ‘Jurassic nature reserve’, moving and introducing dinosaurs into new places and habitats, protecting them from evil poaching types, keeping fledging ecosystems in balance… Lots of cool stuff.

Most importantly, it's not lost on me that this concept lends itself well to another touchstone of dinosaur fiction and film - freakin' dinosaur-wrangling cowboys. A film which gets to introduce the complexity of cutting edge, controversial conservation issues and features people rounding up dinosaurs on horseback? There’s not a single part of my brain that doesn’t like the sound of that. It could be like Valley of Gwangi but, you know… good when the dinosaurs aren’t on screen. 



OK, that’s my lot. Hollywood, I’m waiting by the phone. Any Jurassic movie ideas of your own? The comment field is below...

A new book, Recreating an Age of Reptiles, coming this Autumn

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Twitter and Facebook followers will be aware that teases of new artwork and allusions to a second book form the majority of my recent social media output. Today, the teases stop and the covers are coming off : Recreating an Age of Reptiles, a collection of my recent palaeoartworks, is due out later this year. I'm really thrilled to see enthusiasm from the online community for this project. Every time I mention this book I have someone ask a question or two about content, availability etc. With that in mind, I thought I'd provide some answers via a quick FAQ. I'll do my best to answer any further queries in the comments below.

1. So, what is this exactly?
Recreating an Age of Reptiles is a print-on-demand collection of my palaeoart from the last few years. Encouraged by a very positive social media response to the question of 'would people buy a book of my stuff?', I've been putting it together throughout the summer. The focus is on art, not text, and most of the latter focuses on the artwork more than the palaeobiology of the depicted animals. As I often attempt at this blog, it would be great to try to tackle both the scientific and artistic angles simultaneously, but there just isn't enough room for in-depth scientific discussion of each image. That said, I'm sure certain images will form the focus of articles here eventually.

2. How much new stuff is in there?
There's just over 60 images in the book, being a mix of new and old, with the bulk of it forming revised images from the last few years. Some of the revisions are substantial, but they're almost all to do with technique and colours: the compositions are very similar to the original versions. There are a bunch of completely new images in there too: giant vampire squids, the 'new look' Hatzegopteryx, Repenomammus and others. I've held back, or only partly revealed, many of those images, so hopefully there'll be plenty of surprises to even regular readers.

3. Any sketches or concept work?
Alas, no. To be honest, I don't really have any: working digitally removes a lot of need for dedicated drafting and conceptualising. I have included some older versions of concepts which have been redrafted several times where I think their evolution is particularly interesting.

4. What sort of format will this be in?
Pending some sort of formatting disaster with test versions, expect a full-colour, letter-sized (8.5 × 11", or 216 × 279 mm), soft-bound volume with 100 pages. I'm printing copies with Lulu, the same company that printed All Yesterdays and the Cryptozoologicon, so check those titles for an indication of quality (if you don't have copies of these, rest assured it's pretty good. Also, go buy those books! They're great, and All Yesterdays is a definite must-have if you're interested in my volume).

Draft cover art for what the kids are already calling RecARep.
5. Will there be a hardback version?
Sorry, no. I'd love to have a one too, but the costs are prohibitive for large, full-colour print on demand hardbacks. We're talking c. £100 for a 100 page volume - no-one should be spending that amount of money on a 100 page book. If anyone knows a way around this, I'm all ears, but I have no plans to pursue hardbacks at the moment.

6. What will this cost?
The likely pricetag is going to be £20-25 for each book. I know that's a little on the steep side, but the reality of print on demand is that each book costs nearly £20 just to produce - the profit margin here is not huge. Books published on a larger scale are made cheaper through bulk economy: alas, that's not an option here. That is, unless any publishers are reading and want to sign me up for a cushy deal...

7. Will there be a cheaper electronic version?
I expect so, although my focus is getting the physical version sorted first. An ebook should be available soon after.

8. 'Age of Reptiles'? What do you think this is, the 1950s?
A number of people have commented on the the title of this book, wondering why I've chosen the term 'Age of Reptiles' when it has connotations to more archaic views of many Mesozoic animals. There are a number of reasons I went for this title, not the least being that the world really doesn't need another tome entitled "[Something something] dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures".

Firstly, the focus of the book is not just dinosaurs, or even Mesozoic archosaurs. These animals dominate, but there's sufficient other taxa in there to warrant a title which doesn't overtly emphasise specific groups of animals. Secondly, the term 'Age of Reptiles' accurately describes the time period covered in the book, it being popular parlance for 'Mesozoic'. Given the dream that a book like this might sell a few copies outside a hardcore palaeontology demographic, it seemed sensible to use phraseology which is widely understood. Thirdly, 'Age of Reptiles' resonates within palaeoart, it being the title of Zallinger's seminal 1947 Peabody Museum mural as well as Ricardo Delgado's Age of Reptiles graphic novels. The latter was a big influence on my childhood art, a fact not lost on me when choosing the title. Finally, our advances in dinosaur palaeontology in the last few decades have not stopped dinosaurs being members of Reptilia (the turtle, lizard + archosaur clade): ergo, the title is scientifically sound. I'm sticking with it.

9. Will there be signed copies?
Possibly. I'll figure that out later.

10. When is it out?
There's not a specific date yet, and the honest answer is 'when it's done'! All being well, that won't be very long off: there's some text to finish and proofing to do, and then we're good. I'm aiming for copies to be available mid-late Autumn.

Right, that should do for now - I'm happy to field any additional questions in the comments below, or on Twitter, Facebook etc. Thanks to all who've given their support thus far, and needless to say, there'll be updates soon.

Announcing my Patreon page

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Scleromochlus taylori, because a hustling palaeoartist needs mascots. The full painting can be seen at my Patreon page, and you can read more about this fantastic little animal here.
Regular readers may have noticed I've been making a bit of an effort to make a living from my art this year, setting up a print store and producing a palaeoart book which will be arriving in the next month or so. I really appreciate the enthusiasm and interest I've received about these projects but, like many artists, I find that selling specialised merchandise only goes so far when it comes to making a living. My situation has got to the point where I need to justify the time put into these projects instead of, you know, getting a proper job or something. I like doing what I do, and get the feeling that people enjoy my output, so I'm looking for ways to make my artwork and writing sustainable for the long run.

To that end, I've hopped on the Patreon bandwagon. Patreon, for those unfamiliar with it, is a site which allows followers of artists to pledge money in support of their creative output. The idea is to provide creative types with reliable income which, in other respects, can be otherwise difficult to source through online media - especially if that media is highly specialised (which I think we can all agree applies to palaeontology-based content).

Through my Patreon page, you can support my work with donations whenever I produce a new piece of artwork and/or article. Even small donations - as little as $1 per work - are appreciated, and you can cap the number of pledges you make per month so budgets are not exceeded. There's no obligation to maintain pledges over time, and you can change or stop your contribution whenever you like. Whatever your pledge, the ultimate pay off is that I can invest more time and effort into my output, which means more varied, interesting and higher quality content. As a bonus, I'm also offering reward packages to say thanks to those supporting my work. They include access to exclusive content (previews of upcoming work), access to print-quality artwork files for non-commercial use, prints, books, and commissions. The full break down is thus:


Pledge $1.00 or more per artwork and/or article
  • Access to exclusive Patreon content 

Pledge $5.00 or more per artwork and/or article

  • Access to exclusive Patreon content
  • One small print (up to 8x10") of your choosing each year

Pledge $15.00 or more per artwork and/or article

  • Access to exclusive Patreon content
  • One small print (up to 8x10") of your choosing each year
  • Access to a library of web-resolution artworks for free use (with attribution)
  • Access to print-quality artwork files, allowing you to print your own copies for personal use

Pledge $30.00 or more per artwork and/or article
  • Access to exclusive Patreon content
  • One small print (up to 8x10") of your choosing each year
  • Access to a library of web-resolution artworks for free use (with attribution)
  • Access to print-quality artwork files, allowing you to print your own copies for personal use
  • Signed copy of my upcoming book Recreating an Age of Reptiles (eta. October 2015)
  • Your own commission - I'll paint a fossil species of your choosing, you'll get a high-quality digital file for (non-commercial) use, and a signed print
That's pretty much the nuts and bolts of this plan - further details can be found at my Patreon page. A few individuals have already signed up - huge thanks to them - and, if you like what I do, please consider joining them.

The life aquatic with flying reptiles

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Pteranodon sternbergi dives for a school of panicked fish. So, what, pterosaurs are super good at swimming now? Read on... Reworked version of an image from Witton (2013). Click here to buy prints of this image (and join my Patreon campaign for a discount!). And yes, I'm calling this animal Pteranodon, not Geosternbergia.

Whether or not pterosaurs could swim, or how well they could swim, is a recurrent discussion among those interested in flying reptiles. For the most part, palaeontologists have seemed happy to assume that pterosaurs were aquatically capable, at least long enough to permit their escape from water, because so many pterosaur fossils occur in coastal or marine sediments. Moreover, some long-known specimens show evidence of pterosaurs feeding on aquatic prey. Odds are that pteroaurs would end up in water some of the time, even if only by accident, so it makes sense that they could at least keep themselves afloat for a while. Plus, virtually all tetrapods can swim one way or another, including bats and bird species which, on first principles, seem ill-suited to aquatic locomotion. Pterosaurs might be a bit strange, but they'd have to be very strange not to be capable of at least limited aquatic locomotion.

Proof that pterosaur workers of old thought swimming was possible: Bramwell and Whitfield's (1974) landmark paper on Pteranodon flight depicts one attempting to take off from water.
In recent years, pterosaur researchers have taken a more in depth look at pterosaur swimming, with three main lines of inquiry offering perspectives on how, and how well, pterosaurs took to water. The first concerns pterosaur swim tracks, scratch marks made in upper Jurassic sediments of North America made by pterosaurs paddling across a shallow lake. First described by Lockley and Wright (2003), these tracks record pterosaur feet scraping narrow gouges into sediment, sometimes with toe pad impressions, as buoyant pterosaurs propelled themselves over lake margins. At least locally, such tracks are not rare: Lockley and Wright (2003) report bedding planes covered with hundreds of parallel scratch marks attributed to swimming pterosaurs. Toe pad impressions are only seen occasionally, suggesting that most of these track makers were more or less entirely supported by water, only the very tips of their toes scraping the lake bed. Notably absent altogether from the same slabs are imprints from pterosaur forelimbs. Neither wingtips or walking fingers left impressions when these pterosaurs were swimming or punting about. This helps us work out what these swimming pterosaurs might have looked like, as well as how they propelled themselves: their arms must been held higher than their legs, and at least some of their locomotion was achieved through peddling feet. Quite what this means for mysterious 'manus only' pterosaur tracks (pterosaur track sites where only hand impressions are recorded) is a discussion for another day.

Select examples of pterosaur swim tracks from the Jurassic Summerville (A) and Sundance (B) formations, North America. There are many more examples of tracks like this - some bedding planes are covered in them. Traced illustrations from Lockley and Wright (2003), published in Witton (2013).
Pterosaur swim tracks provide a compelling answer to the basic question over whether pterosaurs could swim at all: clearly, some could, and swim track abundance suggests this behaviour was not unusual, in at least some species. But were all pterosaurs equally adept at swimming, and what - beyond relative positions of the limbs - was their likely floating posture? We have typically assumed that floating pterosaurs might look a bit like floating birds, sitting high on the water surface with their heads well clear of the anything wet. To test this, Hone and Henderson (2014) threw sophisticated, 3D virtual models of pterosaurs into buckets of digital water to see how they floated. These models had variable density for major body components, so account for the distribution of airsacs throughout pterosaur bodies. Some readers may be familiar with Don Henderson's digital water experiments concerning other species: we've seen sauropods and giraffes given the same treatment to understand their floating mechanics (Henderson 2004; Henderson and Naish 2010; and yes, that reads 'giraffes': as explained here, no-one really knows how well they swim!). The Hone and Henderson study included multiple pterosaur species, and grounded itself with convincingly replicating the floating postures of birds (as, indeed, other Henderson studies have done with the floating postures of other extant animals).

How did pterosaurs fare? Although they assumed a stable floating posture, it was not quite as expected. As explained by Dave Hone at The Guardian, pterosaurs were incapable of assuming a bird-like pose when floating. Playing around with postures and body component densities made little difference: the digital pterosaurs consistently floated with their heads close to, or somewhat submerged, in water. Crucially, their nostrils always ended up close to the digital water line, suggesting that anything but a motionless pterosaur in the calmest water was going to be struggling for a clear airway. The problem, it seems, is that pterosaurs are very front heavy. Pterosaurs combine large heads, necks and shoulders with comparatively slender hindquarters so that, even accounting for their pneumatic features and denser hindlimbs, they consistently pitch forward when floating. This condition is more pronounced in pterodactyloids than other pterosaurs, but the general problem applies across the group.

So, sorry, 2013 Ornithocheirus-as-a-bird-like-floater-image-that-I-have-a-little-soft-spot-for, you're out of date.
Does the inability for pterosaurs to float like birds make them unlikely to enter water? To answer that, we might need to think about bird anatomy for just a minute. Because we see swimming birds so often, we don't think their floatation skills are especially remarkable, but they actually are. Bird anatomy is ideal for stable, effortless floating: not only are their necks and heads smaller than those of pterosaurs, but their heavy shoulder regions are counterbalanced by large, strongly muscled legs. This, of course, is a reflection of the hindlimb-dominated launch strategies employed by birds. The only reason their legs are so large and heavy is because of the demands of bipedal launch. Other tetrapod fliers, like pterosaurs, launch using different strategies have no need for heavy hindquarters, which means they overbalance easily in water. Bird bodies are thus exapted for floating, their comparatively large, well-balanced and pneumatised torsos providing stable, lightweight platforms to rest on water. Birds are so good at floating that they can be entirely passive when doing so, their heads sufficiently clear to avoid issues with respiration and light enough that they can move them around freely without overbalancing. This is taken to extreme in aquatic birds like swans and ducks, which perform much of their daily activities on water surfaces. They're essentially flying barges, alighting on water to collect food with lightweight, crane-like necks and heads. The next time you see a floating swan, consider that you're looking at an evolutionary champion as goes floating and foraging from the water-surface.

What does this mean for pterosaurs? Their inability to float like birds probably rules out some behaviours, such as prolonged bouts of sitting on water to rest or forage. However, most swimming animals - even those which routinely travel or forage in water - also can't float like birds. Indeed, predicted pterosaur floating postures are actually pretty consistent with those of other non-avian tetrapods. We might therefore surmise that pterosaur floating abilities are not atypically bad, but simply not at the 'advanced' avian level. As with most tetrapods, pterosaurs might have been quite happy in water, the caveat being that it would never be a passive, restful act. Water-borne pterosaurs were likely either were there for a reason (e.g. finding food, moving through an environment) or, if they had no business there, sought to escape it as soon as possible.

This brings us to the third string of recent work on aquatic pterosaur habits: the biomechanics of entering and exiting water. Earlier this year I discussed pterosaur water launch at some length, so will only provide a brief summary here. Calculations by pterosaur biomechanicists Michael Habib and Jim Cunningham (2010) suggest that pterosaur quadrupedal launching also works on water, albeit in a modified, and slightly more energy intensive form. For some pterosaurs, the effort needed to escape water necessitates a series of hops across the water/air interface to escape surface tension and build up velocity, but some - like the big, powerful azhdarchids - could hulk smash water powerfully enough to escape in one go.

Ornithocheiroid Ornithocheirus simus achieves launch velocity from a coastal sea. Prints of this painting are available from my shop.
Pterosaur water launch becomes especially relevant to our discussion of aquatic habits when we consider the adaptations it imposed on pterosaur anatomy. Certain pterosaurs - ornithocheirids, pteranodontids, rhamphorhynchids - possess features which are unusual among pterosaurs until viewed in light of aquatic launching. Reconfiguring the shoulder muscles to optimise for aquatic launches favours warped or hatchet-shaped deltopectoral crests (the flange on the humerus which anchors flight muscle), robust shoulders, reduced hindlimbs and broad wing joints: most or all of these characters occur in these lineages (Habib and Cunningham 2010). Other pterosaurs - like the aforementioned azhdarchids - seem capable of water launching without these features, suggesting they are not strictly essential for water launch. We might therefore consider some pterosaurs as specifically adapated for aquatic takeoff, implying that some taxa were routinely entering aquatic realms rather than just casually dropping in, or suffering the odd accident.

As with terrestrially-based pterosaurs, it seems takeoff strains put a cap on the maximum size of aquatic-adapted forms. In his Flugsaurier 2015 talk, Mike Habib explained how animals larger than Pteranodon (biggest wingspans around 5-6 m) would struggle with water launching. The largest ornithocheiroids (8-9 m wingpan, c. 160kg in mass) seem to require significant energetic investment and space to take off from water, to the extent that entering aquatic settings resulted in a net loss of energy unless food was particularly plentiful (Habib 2015). This is not to say water launching was impossible for very large or giant pterosaurs, but that the energy demands make it an unlikely routine behaviour. Pterosaur aficionados will note that this size constraint is lower than those proposed for terrestrial launchers (Habib 2013): as might be expected, this reflects the complexity of launching from a fluid substrate instead of hard ground.

Nevertheless, most pterosaurs were not operating at those enormous proportions, and so could theoretically enter water with less concern. Intriguingly, early calculations suggest that some pterosaurs were well-suited to rapid water entry. Qualitative assessments of Pteranodon anatomy indicate that it might be capable of performing shallow dives because, in general construction, it is no less robust than diving birds like pelicans (Bennett 2001; note this is not advocating pelican-like feeding for Pteranodon per se, but simply that Pteranodon anatomy was robust enough to dive into water from a flighted position). Mike's Flugsaurier 2015 talk suggested that this observation is borne out in some basic assessments of skeletal strength. Diving actions would not exceed safety factors of the Pteranodon skeleton, and its streamlined head and air sacs anterior to the torso would aid force dissipation as the animal penetrated the water surface. I must admit to finding the concept of diving Pteranodon quite appealing. Pteranodon skulls are especially streamlined and pointy compared to many other marine pterosaurs (not the least because they lack teeth and anterior crests), and we know that at least some individuals predated relatively tiny fish (Bennett 2001) which may have been difficult to snag during flight. Thus, some sort of shallow diving to get Pteranodon into water where it can pursue prey makes sense to me (as depicted above, see Witton 2013 for more discussion of this concept).

Pteranodon sp. jaw specimen AMNH 5098. That mass of random crap between the manidibular rami is a heap of small, half-digested fish vertebrae. Scale bar represents 100 mm.
To tie this together, our understanding of pterosaurian aquatic locomotion has moved on a lot in just over a decade. While it would be remiss to pretend we have anything more than a basic understanding of their aquatic skills, we nevertheless have some basic hypotheses in place for further work: footprints tell us pterosaurs did swim; digital models give us some idea of likely floating postures and constraints on behaviour; and biomechanical studies hint at anatomical parameters suited to aquatic locomotion. This allows us to start asking more refined questions: which species regularly entered water, and why? How did they propel themselves? Were any pterosaurs specifically adapted for aquatic lifestyles? There are several projects in the works which have bearing on these questions, and those interested in pterosaur lifestyles will definitely want to keep an eye out for them.

This post was brought to you by Patreon

If you've enjoyed this post, and would like to see more original artwork and articles on cool fossil animals, please consider contributing to my Patreon campaign. For as little as $1 a month you can help keep this enterprise ticking over, and you'll get access to exclusive content, discount print prices and other rewards for your troubles. A huge thanks to those who have signed on in my first week of Patreon - your support is really appreciated and encouraging.

References

  • Bennett, S. C. (2001). The osteology and functional morphology of the Late Cretaceous pterosaur Pteranodon Part I. General description of osteology. Palaeontographica Abteilung A, 1-112.
  • Bramwell, C. D., & Whitfield, G. R. (1974). Biomechanics of Pteranodon. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 267(890), 503-581.
  • Habib, M. (2013). Constraining the air giants: limits on size in flying animals as an example of constraint-based biomechanical theories of form. Biological Theory, 8(3), 245-252.
  • Habib, M. 2015. Size limits of marine pterosaurs and energetic considerations of plunge versus pluck feeding. Flugsaurier 2015 Portsmouth, Abstract Volume, 24-25.
  • Habib, M. B., & Cunningham, J. (2010). Capacity for water launch in Anhanguera and Quetzalcoatlus. Acta Geoscientica Sinica, 31, 24-25.
  • Henderson, D. M. (2004). Tipsy punters: sauropod dinosaur pneumaticity, buoyancy and aquatic habits. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B: Biological Sciences, 271(Suppl 4), S180-S183.
  • Henderson, D. M., & Naish, D. (2010). Predicting the buoyancy, equilibrium and potential swimming ability of giraffes by computational analysis. Journal of theoretical biology, 265(2), 151-159.
  • Hone, D. W., & Henderson, D. M. (2014). The posture of floating pterosaurs: Ecological implications for inhabiting marine and freshwater habitats. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology, 394, 89-98.
  • Lockley, M. G., & Wright, J. L. (2003). Pterosaur swim tracks and other ichnological evidence of behaviour and ecology. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 217(1), 297-313.
  • Witton, M. P. (2013). Pterosaurs: Natural History, Evolution, Anatomy. Princeton University Press.

Humps, lumps and fatty tissues in dinosaurs, starring Camarasaurus

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I like to see fossil animals restored as if they belong in the world they're depicted in. That is, not just as basic, conservative reconstructions of ancient species in an certain landscape, but instead with colours, integument and soft-tissue adaptations suited for their possible lifestyles and the environments they frequented. To this end, last year I published an illustration of the Late Jurassic, North American sauropod Camarasaurus supremusas an species well adapted for life in arid settings. As a common part of the famous Morrison Formation dinosaur fauna, dry conditions would be familiar to Camarasaurus, and especially because it occupied the drier, desert-like southern extent of the Morrison palaeoenvironment. I rendered Camarasaurus as a dinosaurian camel, complete with several common cranial adaptations to resisting dry conditions and, most obviously, a fat hump on its back.

2014 restoration of Camarasaurus supremus, published in Witton (2014). Painted to make a point about palaeoart (as well as plugging the awesomeness of All Yesterdays), here's what the caption read. "Reasoned speculation in palaeoart. The sauropod Camarasaurus supremus depicted with adaptations for living in a very dry environment: enlarged nasal cavities to aid resorption of moisture, sealable nostrils to reduce evaporation, wrinkled skin to enhance heat dissipation, white and tan colouring to resist heat soaking, and a fat hump to store energy. Such features are speculative, but do not contradict any data we have for this taxon, and are consistent with the adaptations of modern desert-dwellers."

I decided to revisit this image this week to boost the sauropod content of Recreating an Age of Reptiles(coming soon, I swear!). In doing so, I decided to conduct some more research into the likely nature of non-avian dinosaur fatty tissues. I wanted to keep the fat store on Camarasaurus, as equivalent structures provide energy and water reserves for many modern desert species, and there's no reason to think that extinct dinosaurs would not have developed fat stores for similar purposes. However, is a camel-like hump really likely in a dinosaur? Can we credibly restore any details of dinosaur fats? These were questions I sought to investigate more thoroughly before jumping into my revisions.

Yo extant diapsids so fat

If we're thinking about how to restore dinosaur fats, we need to investigate what the reptile lineage is capable of when it comes to producing and storing fatty tissues. The composition of diapsid fats is a little different to our mammalian ones, although we share functionally comparable approaches to fatty tissue makeup in many respects, including responses to endothermic demands (Goff and Stenson 1988; Saarela et al. 1991; Azeez et al. 2014). Amniotes, as a whole, have fairly similar approaches and uses for fatty tissues, which is great, because that allows us to make some reasonable inferences about fossil species.

Modern reptiles generally have lower fatty tissue fractions than mammals because of their lower energy requirements (Birsoy et al. 2013; Azeez et al. 2014). However, this is not to say that they are incapable of storing large quantities of fat, or even putting on weight rapidly. Some reptiles are indeed lean species, but some - most famously certain geckos, but also some iguanas, skinks and snakes - periodically or permanently hold large stores of fat in case of hard times, or to prepare themselves for energy-intensive feats (e.g. reproduction or long distance travel). Reptiles generally sequester fatty deposits within their torsos or in their tails, but some species also store them in their armpits and in fat pockets located at the back of the head. Individuals of many lizard species are considered healthy when these regions are literally bulging with fatty mass. To my knowledge, these masses are not directly supported by the skeleton or other tissues: it is simply the cohesive nature of fatty tissues and dermis which keeps them in place. It is known that some lizards can pack their tissues with fat rapidly when necessary, some experiments finding geckos can increase their body mass by 50% in four days (enough fuel to sustain them for over half a year!) (Mayhew 2013). Indeed, reptiles are so good at packing on fat, and maintaining it, that owners pet reptiles will know that obesity can be a real issue for captive lizards.

What about living dinosaurs? As with other diapsids, birds can rapidly generate fatty tissues in anticipation of stressful periods, and frequently do so before, for instance, migrating (Lindström and Piersma 1993). 10-15% body fat is considered low for a migrating bird, with the bodies of some species comprising 50% fatty tissues before embarking on their travels - seasoned ornithologists recognise birds as positively emaciated when they finish their journeys (Alerstam and Christie 1993). However, birds are not fully reliant on fatty tissues as energy stores, some species routinely using their muscles and organs as fuel sources during long migrations. It seems only their lungs and brains are safeguarded against being turned into energy (Battley et al. 2000): everything is fair game for fuel or other components needed to maintain a functioning body. Avian fatty tissues are, like those of lizards and crocs, deposited within their torsos but, in lieu of large tails, they also store them across the surface of the chest and abdomen. Bird skin has some transparency, and field ornithologists interested in avian fat tissue fractions can determine their extent by simply checking the amount of yellowish fat tissue visible underneath bird feathers (e.g. Rogers 1991).

The dinosaur hump controversy

Is there any direct indication of fatty tissues in Mesozoic dinosaurs? The answer is probably 'no', except for the controversial idea that the elongate dorsal neural spines if some dinosaurs are indicative of a camel-like 'hump' morphology. Spinosaurus, Ouranosaurus and Deinocheirus are key species here, these animals being depicted sometimes as humpbacked creatures. These interpretations are not the sole remit of artists, either: Bailey (1997) proposed that the tall neural spines of certain dinosaurs supported masses of tissue acting as energy stores or heat buffers - in other words, a heap of fat.

I must admit to being very sceptical that neural spine anatomy is linked to fat humps. For one,it seemingly violates what we see in the extant phylogenetic bracket for dinosaurs, where no species (to my knowledge) have substantial fat deposits on their backs. Of course, it might be queried how meaningful phylogenetic bracketing is for this issue. Fatty tissues seem quite pliable in an evolutionary sense, being chucked around animal bodies with ease as lineages adapt to new conditions (Birsoy et al. 2013). It isn't crazy to think that dinosaur bodies are different enough from those of modern diapsids that they could not have their own take on fat distribution, and there are certainly functional constraints on extant diapsid fatty tissues which are unlikely to apply to non-avian dinosaurs. However, that's only speculation, and one which conflicts with a big pool of direct data on this issue.

Another approach might be to look at animals which do have fatty humps on their backs - several types of mammal - to see if their composition is analogous to anything we see in non-avian dinosaurs. What do their humps look like internally?

A collection of animals with humpbacks and sails. Fatty humps are not directly supported by skeletons in modern species including (B) lowland gorillas (Gorilla gorilla), (C) dromedaries (Camelus dromedaries) and (D) white rhinoceros (Ceratotherium simum). Vertebral spines anchor sails in some modern lizards, such as crested chameleons (Trioceros cristatus; E), and withers anchor powerful neck muscles as in American bison (Bison bison; F). Cropped figure from Witton (2014); B–D and F from Goldfinger (2004); E historic x-ray (1896) by Josef Maria Eder.

Turns out that most mammalian humps are akin to those bulging reptile fat masses mentioned above: they tend to exist without internal support or even osteological correlates. Where humps do correlate with bone, they are comprised of powerful musculature, not fat: the shoulder humps of rhinos and bison show this well. These structures might have subcutaneous fat on them, but this is not their primary composition, nor does fat storage seem to be a principle adaptive purpose. In several species, like camels and rhinos, the longest neural spines do not align with soft-tissue humps at all, these actually being located over dorsal vertebrae with smaller neural spines (camels) or short-spined cervical vertebrae (rhinos). Taking our attention away from mammals, and turning to reptiles, we see that elongate neural spines anchor laterally compressed sail-like structures, not masses of fat. It thus seems that we have no modern correlation between fatty humps and skeletons at all, and that there is no link between elongate neural spines and fatty deposits - quite the opposite actually seems true. It was this suite of observations which led to my 2014 humped Camarasaurus image: bizarrely, it is more consistent with modern data (though still extremely speculative) to put a camel-like hump on something without long neural spines, like Camarasaurus, than it is to put one on Spinosaurus, Ouranosaurus or Deinocheirus. Sail-like structures or (at least for the lower regions of the spines) muscle attachment seem more parsimonious interpretations of their strange vertebrae - if we're being scientific (as we should be in palaeoart), we really shouldn't be looking at those tall neural spines and thinking 'fat hump correlate'.

Tying all this together

Although we may lack direct evidence of them from fossils, data from extant animals suggests it is sensible to restore dinosaurs with noticeable, prominent fatty tissues, especially if we're reconstructing animals associated with extremes of behaviour, climate or environment. Animals about to undertake migration should look well fed and bulky, and those at the other end might look leaner and less nourished. We certainly have good precedent for restoring desert-dwelling Mesozoic dinosaurs - of which there are many - with energy and water reserves, given that even energy-limited ectothermic diapsids take such precautions, as do some endotherms. We should probably not limit fatty tissues to bulky energy stores, either: as in modern lizards, some extinct reptiles may have housed pockets of fat in prominent places to serve as advertisements of health and virility.

Where should we locate those big energy stores? With no direct indication from fossils, I suggest we err on the side of caution and maintain the diapsid condition, principally locating them around the tail base and abdomen. Most Mesozoic dinosaurs had well-developed, powerfully muscled tails, and were thus likely capable of supporting a wad of adipose tissue at the tail base. We could start restoring humps in other places, but it seems sensible to speculative anatomy grounded somewhere. Besides, it's not like a fat-tailed dinosaur is boring concept!

Combining all this together, I'll leave you with the completed, revised version of my desert-adapted Camarasaurus image, now with fatty tissues fully consistent to those of modern diapsids. This meant chopping off the back hump (I'm not going to pretend I wasn't disappointed to do that), but it's worth it for a more defensible image. Note that the adult is sporting not only a fat tail, which is meant to represent sustenance for wandering through harsh desert settings, but also a pair of natty fat pockets behind the skull. It looks fairly happy with them.

Camarsaurus supremus, queen of the desert, not a member of Weight Watchers.

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References

  • Alerstam, T., & Christie, D. A. (1993). Bird migration. Cambridge University Press.
  • Azeez, O. I., Meintjes, R., & Chamunorwa, J. P. (2014). Fat body, fat pad and adipose tissues in invertebrates and vertebrates: the nexus. Lipids Health Dis, 13, 71.
  • Bailey, J. B. (1997). Neural spine elongation in dinosaurs: Sailbacks or buffalo-backs?. Journal of Paleontology, 1124-1146.
  • Battley, P. F., Piersma, T., Dietz, M. W., Tang, S., Dekinga, A., & Hulsman, K. (2000). Empirical evidence for differential organ reductions during trans–oceanic bird flight. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B: Biological Sciences, 267(1439), 191-195.
  • Birsoy, K., Festuccia, W. T., & Laplante, M. (2013). A comparative perspective on lipid storage in animals. Journal of cell science, 126(7), 1541-1552.
  • Goldfinger, E. (2004). Animal Anatomy for Artists: The Elements of Form: The Elements of Form. Oxford University Press.
  • Goff, G. P., & Stenson, G. B. (1988). Brown adipose tissue in leatherback sea turtles: a thermogenic organ in an endothermic reptile?. Copeia, 1071-1075.
  • Lindström, Å., & Piersma, T. (1993). Mass changes in migrating birds: the evidence for fat and protein storage re-examined. Ibis, 135(1), 70-78.
  • Mayhew, W. W. (2013). Biology of desert amphibians and reptiles. In: Brown, G. W. (Ed.). Desert biology: special topics on the physical and biological aspects of arid regions (Vol. 1). Elsevier.
  • Rogers, C. M. (1991). An Evaluation of the Method of Estimating Body Fat in Birds by Quantifying Visible Subcutaneous Fat. Journal of Field Ornithology, 349-356.
  • Saarela, S., Keith, J. S., Hohtola, E., & Trayhurn, P. (1991). Is the “mammalian” brown fat-specific mitochondrial uncoupling protein present in adipose tissues of birds?. Comparative Biochemistry and Physiology Part B: Comparative Biochemistry, 100(1), 45-49.
  • Witton, M. P. (2014). Patterns in Palaeontology: Palaeoart-fossil fantasies or recreating lost reality. Palaeontology Online, 4, 1-14.

What pterosaurs tell us about the evolution of feathers

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2011 PR image for the 2014 description of Laquintasaura venezuelae, a basal ornithischian from Venezuela. Scales were the requested integument for this reconstruction, but how does that decision hold up today?
For the last two weeks I've been revising an image of the Jurassic ornithischian Laquintasaura venezuelae. The original (above) was produced in 2011, but a request to include it in an upcoming book was impetus to tidy up the art and update the anatomy. One significant question for updating this old piece was whether the animals should stay scaly or receive a coat of filaments. The systematic placement of Laquintasaura isn't certain, but it seems to lack features allying it to major ornithischian clades and, for now, is simply considered a basal member of Ornithischia (Barrett et al. 2014). This puts it in a controversial spot as goes interpretation of dinosaur integument: scales, filaments, or a mix of both?

The origins on filamentous integuments and feathers in reptiles remains an ongoing source of fascination and investigation for palaeontologists. It has been known that filamentous reptilian integuments extend deep into geological time since the 1800s, but research into these structures exploded in the 1990s and 2000s when fossils of many non-avian theropods - seemingly all coelurosaurs - were found adorned with feathers or filamentous feather precursors. Soon after, recovery of quills, filaments and strange, fibrous scales in ornithischians made a reality of once speculative ideas about filaments being widespread across Dinosauria. For years now, palaeontologists have been discussing the possibility that theropod filaments and feathers share ancestry with those of ornithischians. One implication of this is that bodies of dinosaur ancestors would be covered in fuzz instead of, as traditionally supposed, scales. Unravelling this conundrum is of key interest to those attempting to understand ancient reptile evolution and physiology, as well as for artists wanting to know how to credibly restore early dinosaurs. However, integument preservation, and particularly filamentous hide, is rare in the fossil record. Much as we might want to, we currently have insufficient data about the skin of early dinosaurs to address this issue directly.

All is not lost, however: some insight into dinosaur filament evolution can be provided by pterosaurs. Flying reptiles and dinosaurs are largely thought to form a more or less exclusive clade, the Ornithodira, which we now recognise as being characterised by a suite of anatomies - not just hindlimb features, as originally proposed - and commonalities of interpreted anatomy: postcranial pneumaticity, upright postures, elevated metabolisms, and filamentous integument. It's the latter which makes pterosaurs potentially useful to understanding the ancestral state of dinosaur skin. It's a little surprising that it's taken us so long to capitalise on this data, since we've had conclusive evidence of pterosaur filaments (we call them pycnofibres) since the 1970s (Sharov 1971). Suggestions that pycnofibres may have been homologous to dinosaur fuzz arrived much later, in the 2000s, when the evolutionary depth of dinosaurian filaments had become apparent and new discoveries of fuzzy pterosaur fossils were being reported (Czerkas and Ji 2002; Ji and Yuan 2002). Perhaps it was the coincidence of these events, the realisation that filaments were widespread in Pterosauria, and increased confidence in the sister relationship between dinosaurs and pterosaurs which lead to this idea finally being proposed.

Late Jurassic pterosaur Sordes pilosus, described in 1971, was one of the first pterosaurs confirmed to have a filamentous body covering. But are pterosaur filaments tied to those of dinosaurs, or independently evolved?
Studies into pterosaur and dinosaur filament homology remain thin on the ground, and much of what has been said thus far is reliant on gross filament morphology. Earlier this year, a team of researchers (Barrett et al. 2015) tackled the issue of ornithodiran filament evolution quantitatively, estimating the likelihood of homology between theropod, ornithischian and pterosaur integuments via their distribution on the ornithodiran tree. Using 18 different variations in methods, calculations and data values, they predicted the likelihood of ancestral integument states in dinosaurs and ornithodirans: were they scaly, filamentous, or feathered? The result, announced in not only the paper but also a subsequent media release, was that 12 of those 18 assessments suggested scales were ancestral to ornithodirans, and the filaments seen in pterosaurs, ornithischians and theropods were derived independently from a common scaly ancestor.

This conclusion was undoubtedly surprising to some and, indeed, a clear caveat accompanies it: scaly ancestral dinosaurs are "sensitive to the outgroup condition in pterosaurs". Support for ancestrally-scaly ornithodirans relies on the assumption that pterosaur ancestors were also scaly. This condition assumed for 50% of those 18 assessments to account for uncertain ancestral condition for pterosaur integument. In the 9 analyses where pterosaurs were treated as wholly filamentous - and thus consistent with what we see in existing pterosaur fossils - six returned results indicating an ambiguous scaly/filamentous ancestral condition for ornithodirans and dinosaurs, and only 3 supported a wholly scaly interpretation. Of those six 'ambiguous' results, most reported a strong likelihood of ornithodirans being ancestrally filamentous, and many gave dinosaurs a good chance of being ancestrally filamentous too. Moreover, treating pterosaurs as filamentous has knock-on effects through the dinosaur tree: suddenly, there are reasonable, or at least equivocal, chances that ornithichians and saurischians were also ancestrally filamentous. This is a different conclusion to the straighter story of ornithodirans and dinosaurs simply being ancestrally scaly.

What influence do fuzzy pterosaurs have on dinosaur skin evolution? Seemingly, quite a bit. The tree on the left shows integument likelihoods (pie charts) where pterosaurs are considered scaly, tree on the right shows a filamentous analysis.  Modified from Barrett et al. (2015).

Clearly, the crux of all this is the assumption that pterosaur ancestors were scaly: just how defendable is this? Because we know little about pterosaur origins, it's hard to say anything conclusive about the evolution of pterosaur integument with our current fossil record. The stratigraphically oldest pterosaur fossil with pycnofibres is from Middle/Late Jurassic deposits, and thus about 50-60 million years younger than the oldest pterosaur fossils - little help in determining if the first pterosaurs were fuzzy. Ongoing disagreements over pterosaur phylogeny complicate attempts to estimate the appearance of lineages with confirmed pycnofibres. Some schemes (those derived from Kellner 2003 and Unwin 2003) suggest pycnofibres must have appeared by the Triassic, close to or at the base of pterosaur ancestry, but others (e.g. Andres et al. 2010) indicate pycnofibres reliably extend no further than the Lower Jurassic. Of course, such assessments of filament distribution might not even be meaningful at this stage, given that pycnofibres are very rare components of pterosaur fossils. They are nowhere near as common as other soft-tissues, such as wing membranes, and we should probably be cautious about any assessment of their evolutionary pathways until we have more data. Perhaps the only significant observation we can make from our current, limited dataset is that, to date, no pterosaur is known with a scaly body covering, even when regionalised scalation - foot pads - preserves in their fossils (Frey et al. 2003).

A possible pterosaur relative with scaly hide is known: the Triassic archosaur Scleromochlus taylori. Benton (1999) described structures interpreted as thin, transversely orientated scales across the back of multiple specimens of this animal. This might provide vindication of the scaled pterosaur ancestor model, but, again, there are some caveats with this idea. For one, Scleromochlus fossils are not well preserved. The scales are feint sediment impressions, visible only in strong, low angle light, such that that they are only considered 'probable' integument impressions by Benton (1999). Previous workers have interpreted them in a different way (as gastralia). Clearly, the evidence for them being scales could be more compelling, and there's certainly not much to work with if we want to test their identification. Secondly, exactly how Scleromochlus is related to pterosaurs is not precisely agreed. Some workers consider it the sister taxon of Ornithodira, others as a member of the pterosaur branch, and others see it as more closely related to dinosaurs than pterosaurs. That might seem a minor issue, but we've already seen how sensitive models of ornithodiran integument are to changes of single variables at the base of the tree. We would probably need to run many variants of the integument probability calculations to account for all the uncertainty surrounding Scleromochlus. This might give more idea of the range of possible integuments at the base of ornithodiran evolution, but that's not much of an improvement on our current situation.

Was Scleromochlus taylori scaly? Maybe - weakly preserved structures on several specimens seem to suggest so. On this diagram, from Benton (1999), possible transverse scales can be seen on the left and middle specimen.
In all, I feel like we're hitting a bit of a wall here. It seems we just don't know enough, and have too many caveats with the limited data we have, to make even a half convincing best guess on this. Thus, how much weight we put on models of ornithodiran integument using scaly pterosaurs is almost a philosophical issue. From my end, I don't think they should be used to argue for scaly ornithodiran and dinosaurian ancestors, at least not with the same weight as tests made using a filametnous pterosaur lineage. When reconstructing ancestral states, characters objectively observed in fossils have to trump assumed character states, even if we know that our dataset is full of holes. After all, the whole point of attempting to figure out an ancestral state is establishing links between character data we have, so introducing opposing character states seems a little contrary to that objective. To be clear, I'm not saying that running models with scaly pterosaur ancestors is a waste of time. To the contrary, it's a good test of model robustness, and Barrett et al. (2015) certainly demonstrate how sensitive our models of ornithodiran integument evolution are by using this approach. Their hypothetical scaly pterosaurs demonstrate that we really do need more early ornithodiran fossils to understand ornithodiran skin evolution. However, I do not think that results of the scaled pterosaur analyses are as informative as their other assessments, as we have to overlook existing data to consider them equally valid.

With all that said, do pterosaur fossils really help us understand the evolution of dinosaur filaments? Playing the conservative card here, it seems they do not provide super strong evidence for an all-fuzzy Dinosauria, but they certainly make it difficult to defend ideas of entirely scaly dinosaur ancestors. Forcibly arguing for either scales or filaments at the base of Dinosauria seems premature at this stage, and, whatever our personal hunches are, it seems sensible to accept some ambiguity in this situation for now.

I began this article with my Laquintasaura conumdrum: how did that play out when, apparently, I can't make up my mind about this scales and filaments debate? Well, I've argued elsewhere that palaeoart can do no better than illustrate credible interpretations of the past and that, so long as the hypotheses they depict are sound, they're doing OK. When we have conflicting or ambiguous hypotheses, we just have to make a judgement call based on our own opinions, gut feelings and interpretations of existing arguments. With my own leaning being towards data showing that scales may not be ancestral to ornithodirans, but also knowing that some dinosaurs are mosaics of filaments and scales, I decided to partially enfluffen my Laquintasaura, while leaving their snouts, tails and limbs scaly. I'll leave you with the revised image.

Laquintasaura venezuelae 2015 edition: basically the same picture, but a bit fluffier, and a bit greener.

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References

  • Andres, B., Clark, J. M., & Xing, X. (2010). A new rhamphorhynchid pterosaur from the Upper Jurassic of Xinjiang, China, and the phylogenetic relationships of basal pterosaurs. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 30(1), 163-187.
  • Barrett, P. M., Butler, R. J., Mundil, R., Scheyer, T. M., Irmis, R. B., & Sánchez-Villagra, M. R. (2014). A palaeoequatorial ornithischian and new constraints on early dinosaur diversification. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B: Biological Sciences, 281(1791), 20141147.
  • Barrett, P. M., Evans, D. C., & Campione, N. E. (2015). Evolution of dinosaur epidermal structures. Biology letters, 11(6), 20150229.
  • Czerkas, S. A., & Ji, Q. I. A. N. G. (2002). A new rhamphorhynchoid with a headcrest and complex integumentary structures. Feathered Dinosaurs and the origin of flight, 1, 15-41.
  • Frey, E., Tischlinger, H., Buchy, M. C., & Martill, D. M. (2003). New specimens of Pterosauria (Reptilia) with soft parts with implications for pterosaurian anatomy and locomotion. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 217(1), 233-266.
  • Kellner, A. W. (2003). Pterosaur phylogeny and comments on the evolutionary history of the group. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 217(1), 105-137.
  • Ji Q., & Yuan C. (2002) Discovery of two kinds of protofeathered pterosaurs in the Mesozoic Daohugou Biota in the Ningcheng region and its stratigraphic and biologic significances. Geol. Rev. 48, 221–224.
  • Sharov A, G. (1971). New flying reptiles from the Mesozoic of Kazakhstan and Kirghizia. - Transactions of the Paleontological Institute, Akademia Nauk, USSR, Moscow, 130: 104–113 [in Russian].
  • Unwin, D. M. (2003). On the phylogeny and evolutionary history of pterosaurs. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 217(1), 139-190.

New sauropodoramas: Stormy brachiosaurs! Apatosaurine brontosmash!

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Realising that Recreating an Age of Reptileswas a bit light on sauropod art, I've been beavering away on two additional sauropodoramas* to pad things out a bit. I thought I'd share them here.

*Sauropods are such special animals that they deserve their own nomenclature for most things, including artwork. See, for another example, 'shards of excellence'.

The first is a reworking of a 2013 image of the Wealden (probable) brachiosaur Pelorosaurus conybeari in hammering wind and rain. We know that Wealden climates were subject to storms and intense downpours on occasion (lightning and floods being, of course, key elements in the production of fossil-rich plant debris horizons in certain Wealden deposits) and it stands to reason that any sauropods around when those rains arrived would have got quite wet indeed. I don't say that just casually: the prospects of being a wild animal the size of a house mean that you're actually pretty exposed to just about everything weather can throw at you. When unexpected meteorological fit hits the shan, your options as a giant are pretty limited. Running away is out, because your legs are pillar-like structures adapted for supporting immense weight, not nimble escape. Seeking shelter is not an option either, because you're bigger than everything else around you. You're just too darned huge to do anything but stand there and take it. The life of a sauropod must've been spent baking in the sun, being battered by wind, and drenched in rain. I find that idea quite romantic and evocative as an artist. When painting sauropods, I often wonder how cracked, weathered and worn their skin must've been through a lifetime of battles with changing weather.

Like masts in a storm, three Pelorosaurus conybeari brave typically English weather, c. 135 million years ago. They're doing their best to look tough next to a couple of rainbows.
Second is an image inspired by a recent SVPCA talk by sauropod expert Mike Taylor and his colleagues Matt Wedel, Darren Naish and Brian Engh. Regular readers of the palaeoblogosphere will probably already know where this is going, given that Mike's talk (and the upcoming Wedel et al. paper) has been given some hefty coverage at SV:POW!. Those familiar with sauropods will know that apatosaurines (Apatosaurus, Brontosaurus and a few other taxa) have atypically proportioned, large and robust neck vertebrae, with their cervical ribs being especially elongated and reinforced. These structures possess peculiar buttresses on their underside which, it seems, are not products of muscle or ligament attachment (if they are, they have no modern analogue). Instead, they might relate to an epidermal feature like a boss or horn, as such structures sometimes leave peculiar swellings on underlying bones. Exactly what these anatomies indicate has long been puzzling, and all the more so because all apatosaurines show neck vertebrae with these features. Some (like Brontosaurus) were more extreme than others in development of these features, but even modest apatosaurines were doing crazy, mysterious stuff with their neck anatomy. Question is, what?

Matt, Mike and others have recently been outlining a first principles approach to this conundrum. They note that the reinforced construction of apatosaurine necks, the additional muscle attachment afforded by vertebral expansion, and those strange vertebral buttresses might render their necks effective clubs or wrestling appendages, particularly well suited to rapid, powerful downward motions. Summarised a little more succinctly: there is reason to think Brontosaurus and kin might've smashed the crap out of each other, or other animals...

...with their necks.

Yowsers. But outlandish as the Brontosmash hypothesis seems, it really isn't just idle speculation: a paper is in the works, the Taylor et al. SVPCA talk abstract is a preprint at PeerJ, and you can see the case explained in Mike's talk slides here. I find it pretty convincing myself: I mean, there had to be some reason apatosaurines had those crazy necks. Evolution is a sloppy craftsman at times, but the energy put into growing and maintaining such massive neck anatomy must've been substantial, and that almost certainly reflects a certain adaptive purpose. Combat might well have been that driving force. We also know from living animals - camels, giraffes and some seals - that necks are used for fighting, and that neck-based combat can promote reinforcement and restructuring of neck anatomy. It certainly sounds provisionally convincing to me, and I'm sure we'll hear a lot more about it in the future as the hypothesis is developed.

We're also sure to see this concept frequently in future palaeoart. Mike has been collecting some of the early artwork of this idea over at SV:POW!, including a wealth of coloured sketches and concepts by Brontosmash coauthor and palaeoartist Brian Engh, palaeoartist Bob Nicholls, #MikeTaylorAwesomeDinoArt (the revolution palaeoart deserves, if not the one it needs) and an alternative interpretation of apatosaurine neck data provided by myself (we secretly know I'm on the money with that one). I also decided to attempt a full on painting:

Multiple tonnes of Brontosaurus excelsus in disagreement.
There're two nods to classic palaeoartists here. There's a Knightian influence to the style (not the first time he's infected my work), as well as, via the very upright postures of the wrestling animals, a hat-tip to Robert Bakker's famous 'boxing Brontosaurus' image. The latter had a big impact on me when I first saw it as a teenager, and it's been on my mind for obvious reasons with all this talk of fighting apatosaurines. I thought it also made for a bit of a contrast to Brian's 'official' depictions as well, these showing the animals in quadrupedal or near-quadrupedal poses (I assume at least some of the postures in those artworks mimic neck combat in elephant seals, a favoured modern behavioural analogue of Team Brontosmash). The setting is meant to be in the wetter, northern parts of the Morrison Formation palaeoenvironment, alongside swollen river margins. Initial plans were to record the progression of the wrestling match in muddy footprints, but adding splashes and visual noise to proceedings was too much fun, especially with those tails whirling around everywhere. Sloshing water provided a means showing specific actions, too, the splashes from colliding brontosaur hide signifying each powerful, multi-tonne impact. This was definitely a fun image to put together, and it's certainly a favourite of my recent work. Brontosmash!

That's all for now. Coming soon (probably): The Triassic! And a boring old pterosaur that we just can't leave alone!

These sauropodoramas were brought to you by Patreon

Regular readers will know that this blog and artwork is sponsored by patrons who pledge support at my Patreon page. For as little as $1 a month you can help keep this blog going and, as a reward, you get to see a bunch of exclusive content, and I'm really grateful to everyone who contributes. I'm especially thankful at the moment because, around a week ago, my art PC almost flatlined. My patrons have taken the sting out of repair costs, as well as given an incentive for futureproofing my hardware. Thanks chaps - you're awesome (if, sorry, not quite as awesome as neck smashing brontosaurs. But what is?).

We just can't quit you, Pterodactylus

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A small flock of Pterodactylus antiquus, represented by small juveniles (left) up to big adults (right) scope out foraging options in a Jurassic marsh. The animal on the right is luring prey to the surface through paddling forefeet, a behaviour common to (at least) several modern gull species.
Pterosaur researchers are infamous for their frequent disagreements over flying reptile evolution, lifestyles and even basic anatomical interpretation. I can certainly attest that there is some truth to this: writing about pterosaurs can be frustrating because of continual need for clarification and digressions to ensure all points of view are represented. But if there's one pterosaur we must have reached a consensus over, one species we must all agree about, surely it's the Late Jurassic, Solnhofen species Pterodactylus antiquus. The holotype of Pterodactylus - below - has been known to us longer than any other pterosaur fossil, this being the specimen which kick-started flying reptile studies in 1780. Since then, it's almost a rite of passage for researchers to see this specimen along with some of the other several dozen Pterodactylus fossils in museums around the world. Pterodactylus has been looked at so much that a general agreement over what it is, and the species it is related to, has more or less been established. Characterised by a long, low skull, simple teeth, a long neck and largish feet, we consider Pterodactylus a relatively early form of pterodactyloid, and most likely a member of the ctenochasmatoid/ archaeopterodactyloid* branch of pterosaur evolution. This puts it in the same lineage as several other familiar species, such as comb-toothed Ctenochasma and twisty-jawed weirdo Cycnorhamphus. We're all basically happy with the idea that our dataset for Pterodactylus is fairly good: 30 specimens (a very conservative estimate) provide numerous complete skeletons and a growth series from small juveniles up to very large adults.

*As with many parts of the pterosaur tree, nomenclature for 'Pterodactylus-line' pterodactyloids is confused by the use of several, conflicting names and definitions. I wasn't kidding about those caveats and digressions.

All that said, some areas of Pterodactylus research remain contentious, and new insights into its anatomy and disparity are still being published more than 200 years after it was discovered. Surprisingly, unlike the way we often gain novel appreciation for familiar taxa - new specimens shedding new light on old problems - much of our recent understanding of Pterodactylus relies on the same, well-worn specimens we've been analysing for centuries. It's actually quite sobering to see specimens which have been interrogated so much still providing talking points, and it makes me wonder what we're missing from those briefly described, rarely analysed specimens comprising so much of our vertebrate fossil dataset. Here, I want to cover some of the new insights provided on Pterodactylus in just the last two years.

The specimen which started it all: the Pterodactylus antiquus holotype. The wingspan of this specimen, preserved in a 'falling forward' posture rather atypical for a Solnhofen pterodactyloid, is about 45 cm.

Anatomy and palaeobiology

Until recently, most of us have been used to seeing Pterodactylus depicted as a crestless species. A privately owned specimen described in 2003 showed that, like many other pterosaurs, this animal bore a set of soft-tissue structures associated with the top and back of the skull (Frey et al. 2003). Specifically, it seems Pterodactylus bore a soft-tissue crest along the posterior region of the head and a pointed, posteriorly-projecting 'occipital lappet' at the back of the skull. The latter, for now at least, seems unique to Pterodactylus. This information is well known to 21st century scholars, but it's less appreciated that these soft tissues were first mentioned almost 100 years ago. Pterodactylus crests were first reported in the 1920s, and the lappets in 1970 (see Bennett 2013). I find it bizarre that we didn't start restoring Pterodactylus with these interesting structures until the 2000s: this seems to be an example of artists and scientists not working together as well as they might.

Unlike other pterosaurs, the soft-tissue crest of Pterodactylus did not seem to anchor on a low, striated bony ridge. The absence of this feature, even when preservation was sublime enough to record soft-tissues and detection methods were of late 20th century quality, was likely a key factor in our general consideration of Pterodactylus as a crestless species. I always found the occurrence of soft-tissue crests without corresponding bony structures an alarming prospect, one implication being that we could be ignorant of soft-tissue crests in a huge number of pterosaur species.

It was somewhat relieving, therefore, to see Chris Bennett reporting a crest-anchoring structure for Pterodactylus in 2013. It's small, and often smooth rather than striated, but Pterodactylus definitely does have a midline ridge for crest anchorage - even on the holotype has one when we look close enough. Exactly how extensive these structures were remains unknown thanks to many historic specimens being accidentally damaged during preparation. It's easy to see how this occurred: the crests are low, extremely fragile, and only 0.2 millimetre thick. They'd be hard to detect and avoid damaging even if you were looking for them. Hopefully, preparators working on unprepared specimens can recover intact crests now we know they exist.

The most extensive example of cranial soft tissues known thus far from Pterodactylus. Unfortunately, we're still some way from knowing what shape they took in life, although this specimen indicates that almost half of the skull was covered by the crest and that the lappet was also quite large. Parts of the diagram labelled 'fa' record sediments which fluoresce under UV light - they're likely matrix contaminated by organic seepage from the decaying pterosaur head. They are unlikely to tell us much about the appearance of the animal in life. From Bennett (2013).
Pterodactylus cranial soft tissues are now known to occur in a number of specimens, but it remains unclear how large or what shape the crests were. The lappets seem to be of a consistent size and position, and many curve upwards, but whether they are joined to the rest of the crest (as suggested by Frey et al. 2003) remains to be confirmed (Bennett 2013). At least some aspect of crest and lappet development matches what we see in other pterosaurs, in that we only start picking up evidence of these structures in larger Pterodactylus specimens. There also seems to be a rough correlation between crest proportions and body size. Pterodactylus thus seems to be another pterosaur species where cranial ornament signifies entry into adulthood, suggesting a function of sexual communication (Bennett 2013).

Speaking of adulthood, it was also only recently that we've obtained a true sense of how large Pterodactylus may have grown. We typically imagine this animal as small bodied - maybe with a 50 cm wingspan - but a newly described skull and lower jaw (below) makes the first unambiguous case for Pterodactylus reaching at least 1 m across the wings (Bennett 2013). To put this in a modern context, large Pterodactylus would be of comparable size to smaller heron species, and large individuals would have been conspicuous components of the Solnhofen pterosaur fauna. A trend where skull, neck, and limb proportions increase with body size, first intimated by Peter Wellnhofer (1970), seems to hold up in modern interpretations of Pterodactylus specimens. Realising how variable this pterosaur's proportions might have been throughout life has been very informative to recent considerations of Pterodactylus taxonomy.

The mother of all Pterodactylus skulls. A preserved skull length of 142 mm indicates a skull of around 200 mm long in life, and an animal reaching a 1 m wingspan. From Bennett (2013).

One species, two species, or three genera?

This brings us to some of the more contentious recent developments in Pterodactylus studies: just how many species are represented in the Pterodactylus dataset? Many readers will be aware that the name Pterodactylus was once applied to almost any new pterosaur fossil, and around 80 'Pterodactylus' species have existed in the last 200 years (Ford 2013). The taxonomic history of Solnhofen pterodactyloids has been especially mixed up with the name Pterodactylus and, by the end of the 1800s, their taxonomy was in a real tangle. Work in the mid-20th century, particularly by Peter Wellnhofer (1970), streamlined systematic interpretations of Pterodactylus so that, by the 2000s, only two species were considered valid: P. antiquus and P. kochi. A couple of 'hangers on' were still knocking about ('P'. longicollum and 'P'. micronyx), but researchers universally agreed that these animals were not true members of Pterodactylus, and were simply awaiting new generic names (they now have them: Ardeadactylus and Aurorazhdarcho, respectively).

Distinguishing features between kochi and antiquus were subtle, being primarily aspects of tooth shape, tooth number, and proportions of the skull, neck and torso. This is not a new observation, and suggestions that they may represent the same taxon date back to the 1800s. Eventually, studies of Pterodactylus teeth was used to suggest outright synonymy of these two species (Jouve 2004). Many pterosaurs, as with most reptiles, increase their tooth counts with age and size. Jouve realised that the allegedly distinctive tooth count of P. kochi aligned perfectly with tooth numbers predicted for antiquus of comparable body size. At least in this respect, these two species could not be distinguished. More recently, Bennett (2013) bolstered this synonymy with an assessment of kochi proportions, noting that perceived distinctions in skull and body length were reliant on erroneously recorded measurements. Once corrected, kochi proportions were very similar to comparably sized antiquus individuals (there's a lesson there about the importance, and repetition, of basic data recording in this) and, along with Jouve's work, this study have eroded the foundations of the kochi/antiquus split considerably. Remaining distinguishing features between these species are rather poorly defined, and certainly not divorceable from effects of growth, preservation and preparation. Finally, after 200 years, it was looking like Pterodactylus taxonomy had finally been tidied up: we have one Pterodactylus species, not two, or 80.

Historically considered to represent Pterodactylus antiquus, recent work argues this specimen (along with some referred material) is a wholly distinct species, and distantly related to P. antiquus. It was recently christened Aerodactylus scolopaciceps. Image from Vidovic and Martill 2014 (this particular version from Steve Vidovic's Mesozoic Monsters blog).

Except... the story doesn't end there. Last year, my University of Portsmouth colleagues Steven Vidovic and David Martill suggested that not only were 'cryptic taxa' present in the Solnhofen Pterodactylus dataset, but that the traditional phylogenetic placement of some Pterodactylus-like animals might be erroneous. Using a variety of methods, Steve and Dave proposed that Pterodactylus contained at least three taxa: antiquus (which they considered the only true member of the genus), kochi (a separate genus in their interpretation, and more closely related to other pterodactyloids than antiquus), and a resurrected Pterodactylus species from the 1800s, scolopaciceps (Vidovic and Martill 2014, see image, above). Steve and Dave created the generic name Aerodactylus for this animal, providing a diagnostic combination of over 10 character states relating to skull shape and proportions, orbit shape, tooth count, neck length, humeral curvature and limb bone robustness. Attempting to establish the relationships of these three 'Pterodactylus' taxa saw Ctenochasmatoidea/Archaeopterodactyloidea dissolve into a paraphyletic spread across the base of Pterodactyloidea. In this topology, antiquus and kochi anchor the base of Pterodactyloidea (without forming an exclusive clade themselves) and scolopaciceps is at the other end of the 'ctenochasmatoid' range, in a sister clade to the rest of Pterodactyloidea.

That's quite a shake up, contradicting virtually all other recently published opinions on the taxonomy and evolution of these animals. But although different, at least some of these ideas are not be untenable. For instance, the idea that Ctenochasmatoidea/Archaeopterodactyloidea might be paraphyletic is suggested by the 'Painten pro-pterodactyloid', an unusual pterosaur specimen revealed two years ago (below, Tischlinger and Frey 2013). This taxon, which shows a Pterodactylus-like skull combined with postcranial features somewhat like those of non-pterodactyloid pterosaurs, suggests aspects of 'ctenochasmatoid' anatomy developed outside of Pterodactyloidea proper. It therefore will not be that surprising if this taxon pulled some 'basal' ctenochasmatoids of traditional lore to the root of Pterodactyloidea once it's included in phylogenetic studies. (Those interested in the influence of the 'Painten pro-pterodactyloid' animal on our understanding of pterosaur evolution might find this previous post of interest).

The 'Painten Pro-pterodactyloid' specimen, messing up our nice, neat interpretation of pterodactyloid evolution since 2013. Notice the Pterodactylus-like posterior skull morphology alongside traditional non-pterodactyloid features - a long(ish) tail and big fifth toes. From Tischlinger and Frey (2013).
But do our few dozen Pterodactylus specimens really comprise three, distantly-related species? On this, I'm less certain. We see a lot of variation across Pterodactylus specimens reflecting those aforementioned factors of ontogeny, preservation and preparation - not to mention individual variation. Having played with Pterodactylus data a little myself, and seen a fair share of specimens relevant to these discussions (though I stress not all), I find the arguments for synonymy more compelling than those for splitting Pterodactylus apart. This said, I have no horse in this race and could be persuaded otherwise. What we really need - and a number of folks in pterosaur research have been saying this for a while now - is someone to travel the world exhaustively documenting and illustrating Pterodactylus specimens, ultimately producing a modern synthesis on its anatomy. Such a study would not only be a valuable research aid (the last attempt at this was 50 years ago, which is an age ago in terms of research and publication techniques), but would pack a lot of weight in resolving ongoing, long running disputes in this animal's taxonomy.

Talking about the future of research into Pterodactylus seems like a sensible place to leave off, and I'll summarise in saying that - as with much else in pterosaur research - we're a little while off a complete consensus on Pterodactylus for now. Clearly, although the concept of Pterodactylus is over two centuries old, there's still things learn about it. Who knows what we'll be saying about this most familiar of pterosaurs in years to come?

These Pterodactylus were produced with Patreon

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References

  • Bennett, S. C. (2013). New information on body size and cranial display structures of Pterodactylus antiquus, with a revision of the genus. Paläontologische Zeitschrift, 87(2), 269-289.
  • Ford, T. L. (2013). Is Pterodactylus monophyletic or paraphyletic? Short Communications - International Symposium on Pterosaurs, Rio Ptero 2013. 68-70.
  • Frey, E., Tischlinger, H., Buchy, M. C., & Martill, D. M. (2003). New specimens of Pterosauria (Reptilia) with soft parts with implications for pterosaurian anatomy and locomotion. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 217(1), 233-266.
  • Jouve, S. (2004). Description of the skull of a Ctenochasma (Pterosauria) from the latest Jurassic of eastern France, with a taxonomic revision of European Tithonian Pterodactyloidea. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 24(3), 542-554.
  • Tischlinger H, Frey E. 2014. Ein neuer Pterosaurier mit Mosaikmerkmalen basaler und pterodactyoider Pterosaurier aus dem Ober-Kimmeridgium von Painen (Oberpfalz, Deutschland) [A new pterosaur with moasic characters of basal and pterodactyloid Pterosauria from the Upper Kimmeridgian of Painten (Upper Palatinate, Germany)]. Archaeopteryx 31, 1-13.
  • Vidovic, S. U., & Martill, D. M. (2014). Pterodactylus scolopaciceps Meyer, 1860 (Pterosauria, Pterodactyloidea) from the Upper Jurassic of Bavaria, Germany: the problem of cryptic pterosaur taxa in early ontogeny.
  • Wellnhofer, P. (1970). Die Pterodactyloidea (Pterosauria) der Oberjura-Plattenkalke Süddeutschlands. Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Mathematisch- Wissenschaftlichen Klasse, Abhandlugen, 141, 1-133.

The Spinosaurus saga continues

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A year after the 'Spinosaurus reboot' as a small-legged, early whale-mimicking aquatic quadruped, experts remain divided over fundamental aspects of Spinosaurus palaeobiology. This depiction shows Spinosaurus aegyptiacus as generally imagined prior to 2014.

The long, tragic and occasionally controversial research history of the giant, enigmatic theropod Spinosaurus aegyptiacus will be familiar to many readers of this blog*. First named and described in the early 20th century by Ernst Stromer from remains found in Late Cretaceous strata of Egypt, our principle Spinosaurus material fell victim to Allied bombing raids in World War II and was completely destroyed. Stromer's detailed illustrations and descriptions are all that remains of this material, and these have formed a variably interpreted foundation of all subsequent Spinosaurus research. For much of the 20th century the life appearance of Spinosaurus remained mysterious. Depicted as a nondescript sailed giant theropod early on, discovery of well represented spinosaurids like Baryonyx and Suchomimus, as well as fragments of new Spinosaurus material, permitted more confident interpretations of Spinosaurus size and form as we approached the new millennium. By the 2010s, Spinosaurus was recognised as a gigantic, derived and perhaps semi-aquatic spinosaurid, adapted for feeding on large aquatic prey (above). Much of this interpretation relied on new Spinosaurus remains from multiple locations in northern Africa, including the famous Moroccan Kem Kem Beds, an expanse of Late Cretaceous rocks roughly contemporaneous with those Egyptian deposits yielding the original, destroyed Spinosaurus remains.

*For succinct overviews of Spinosaurus research prior to 2014, check out posts at Tetrapod Zoology and Laelaps.

Famously, last year saw Spinosaurus reinvented again, this time as a quadrupedal, knuckle-walking, long-bodied, tiny-legged dinosaurian take on a crocodile or early whale (below). The authors of this widely publicised study, Nizar Ibrahim and colleagues (2014), synthesised existing and new data on African spinosaurids to create this reconstruction, synonymising several taxa into S. aegyptiacus and presenting new Spinosaurus remains obtained from the Kem Kem beds. The most significant of these was a set of associated vertebrae, pelvic and hindlimb remains which were proposed as a neotype specimen for Spinosaurus (a specimen to hold the Spinosaurus name now that the original material is lost to science). That this neotype represents Spinosaurus was bolstered by it bearing similar hindlimb and vertebral proportions to 'Spinosaurus B', a collection of Egyptian spinosaurid specimens described by Stromer, considered referable to Sp. aegyptiacus by Ibrahim and colleagues. Spinosaurus B is also now lost, also being destroyed in WWII. The Ibrahim et al. study provided a lot of new data on Spinosaurus and has helped cement the concept of it being a semi-aquatic animal, but several aspects of the paper didn't meet the warmest receptionfrom a number of academics. Specific issues were scaling of the skeletal components, how sensible it was to lump so much north African spinosaurid material into one species, and uncertainty about the provenance of the neotype specimen. Some of these concerns were diffusedby the authors, but we await a promised monograph for answers to all the questions raised by their first paper. In the mean time, the 2014 Spinosaurus interpretation remains a debated topic among those interested in dinosaur palaeontology.

The Ibrahim et al. (2014) take on Spinosaurus aegyptiacus. Different colours represent different specimens: red is the neotype; brown is the original Spinosaurus material; yellow is referred, isolated Spinosaurus remains; green bones are borrowed from other spinosaurids, and blue bones are crafted to fit the skeleton based on neighbouring elements. Image borrowed from Smithsonian.com.

One year later...

This week, the Spinosaurus tale has taken another twist with publication of a mammoth (open access) paper penned by a team of European spinosaurid experts, led by Serjoscha Evers. Evers et al. have reappraised the affinities of Moroccan specimens seemingly related to Spinosaurus: Sigilmassasaurus brevicollis and Spinosaurus maroccanus. These animals, known only from vertebrae, were subsumed into Sp. aegyptiacus by Ibrahim et al. (2014) as part of their trans-African Spinosaurus concept, and that decision is a core focus of the Evers et al. paper. Their work contains extensive commentary on the detailed anatomy of Moroccan spinosaur material and what it might mean for recent interpretations of Spinosaurus form and lifestyle. Given the wide interest in Spinosaurus and the 2014 reconstruction, I thought it might be of interest to summarise some of what they outline here.

Firstly, taxonomic revisions proposed by Evers et al. present a very different picture of what fossils we can identify as belonging to Spinosaurus. Their work on Si. brevicollis and Sp. maroccanus suggests these species are probably one and the same (the latter being sunk into the former), and that Sigilmassasaurus should be considered distinct from Sp. aegyptiacus. They go on to suggest that other Kem Kem vertebrae hint at a second spinosaurid species in the Kem Kem fauna, and outline several reasons why the Ibrahim et al. 'neotype' specimen cannot be referred to Spinosaurus. For one, the neotype is anatomically quite different from Stromer's Egyptian 'Spinosaurus B' specimen. Ibrahim et al. considered Spinosaurus B as representing Sp. aegyptiacus, but Evers and colleagues argue that Spinosaurus B is anatomically more similar to Sigilmassasaurus than Spinosaurus. Spinosaurus B therefore might have no use for linking any specimens specifically to Sp. aegyptiacus, including that all-important neotype.

In addition to these morphological objections, Evers et al, also raise palaeobiogeographic issues with the 'neotype' referral. Evidence for Egyptian dinosaur species being present in Morocco is scant at best, most data indicating little mixing of eastern and western African dinosaur species during the Late Cretaceous. It would be unusual, then, to find the Egyptian species Sp. aegyptiacus in Morocco. Palaeobiogeography is not a deal clincher for taxonomy of course - careful examination of the neotype and genuine Spinosaurus remains will be the deciding factor here - but it is another stick in the mud for the neotype proposal. Although the exact identity of the 'neotype' specimen is left in the air by Evers et al. - ongoing descriptive work on the specimen needs to be completed to truly assess this - they reject the proposal of the Kem Kem specimen as a Sp. aegyptiacus neotype, and leave Spinosaurus characterised by features in Stromer's illustrations. This is obviously quite a shake up of the suggestions made last year: Spinosaurus 2014 might be a mix of at least two named species, incorporate material of under-appreciated taxonomic importance, and substantial, newly published material might have little, if anything, to do with Spinosaurus.

The proposed Spinosaurus neotype. Image borrowed from Andrea Cau's excellent Theropoda blog.

Moving on, Evers et al. also raise concerns about interpretations of Spinosaurus in context of Kem Kem fossil collecting practises. Museum exhibitions and PR exercises suggest that the Kem Kem yields complete skeletons of dinosaurs and other fossil vertebrates, but the reality is quite the opposite. Kem Kem vertebrates are typically preserved as isolated, often broken bones in multitaxic bone beds (that is, bone beds comprising many species). Associated skeletons of single individuals do occur, but they're relatively rare and rely on precise collecting documentation to prove their authenticity. Unfortunately, historic and recent records of Spinosaurus occurrences and excavation are often poor. We might chalk a lack of historic documentation to the practises and technological limitations of bygone times, but recent issues are caused primarily by the commercial value of Kem Kem fossils. The greater majority of Kem Kem fossils, including dinosaurs, are collected without extensive documentation and then sold by private dealers. Even if localities are recorded, ambiguity often surrounds association of fossil material prior to excavation. Several alleged associated Spinosaurus specimens are meant to have come from single localities, but being from the same place is really only half the battle if they stemmed from multitaxic assemblages. Concordant size of bones might suggest genuine association, but this is not always certain either: Evers et al. report practises where collectors sort loose material from disparate locations into type and size categories before sale - nefarious individuals making fossil skeletons more substantial with unassociated elements is a real problem the world over. It's sad but true that the monetary value associated with substantial vertebrate fossils makes ascertaining their authenticity crucial for subsequent credible interpretation.

Unfortunately, Evers et al. report these factors as affecting virtually all associated Spinosaurus material, including the 'neotype' and the other specimen key to the 2014 reconstruction, Spinosaurus B. In the case of the latter, all we have to go on to establish association are Stromer's notes, which are not quite as detailed as we might like. For the neotype, we know some of the specimen was directly collected in the field, and that other bits were purchased from dealers by two academic institutions over a two year period - exact documentation of this remains to be presented (hopefully it will in the 'neotype' monograph). Without strict certainty over how many individuals these specimens might represent, Evers et al. suggest some of the odd proportions in recent Spinosaurus reconstructions may reflect the marrying of mismatched bones to one another. That's not a certainty, of course, but it's also something which shouldn't be casually ignored.

Collectively, Evers et al. use these points to provide an alternative take on Spinosaurus to that presented in 2014. Ibrahim et al. argued that their new material helped simplify and integrate different interpretations of African spinosaurid material, but Evers et al. argue the opposite: they emphasise how poorly known Spinosaurus and kin are, and how interpreting fossils of north African spinosaurids is getting increasingly complex. Spinosaurus fossils remain very fragmentary to the point where most cannot be directly compared, they seem to hint at, but don't really crystalise, an apparent high species diversity, and are often of uncertain association or exact origin. At face value, that doesn't leave us with a lot to be confident about, although we'll have to see how this more despondent view goes down with other spinosaurid researchers. More complete and well documented discoveries will soon help smooth out bumps in our knowledge, but it seems likely that a lot of work and discussion remains to sort out what is really going on with north African, Late Cretaceous spinosaurids.

What does this mean for 'the Spinosaurus reboot'?

That's not quite the end of our discussion, however. It might be assumed that the points outlined above sound the death knell for the strangely proportioned 2014 Spinosaurus reconstruction, and that we should go back to our traditional interpretation of this animal. That might not be quite right, for two reasons. Firstly, given how distinctive many 'Spinosaurus' remains now seem to be, it's actually questionable what specimens should be considered Sp. aegyptiacus at all, other than the first specimen described by Stromer. A lot of referred isolated Spinosaurus specimens have been incorporated into our 'traditional' reconstructions in recent years, and we might need to think hard about their role in our interpretations of this animal. What we've become typically used to thinking of as Spinosaurus may not entirely be Spinosaurus!

Secondly, while some aspects of the 2014 interpretation of Spinosaurus have clearly been challenged by the Evers et al. paper, not all proportional aspects of the recent Spinosaurus reinvention are obviously erroneous. Last year, Ibrahim et al. noted that both Spinosaurus B and the 'neotype' have reduced hindlimbs with respect to their associated vertebrae, and used this fact as support for the diminutive legs in their reconstruction. Although arguing that there is no longer evidence for short hindlimbs in Spinosaurus itself, Evers et al. don't completely dismiss the notion of some African spinosaurids being short legged. The hindlimb proportions of those specimens is very similar despite the vagaries surrounding fossilisation and exhumation of ancient animal remains, maybe more similar than you'd expect from chance alone. If it is coincidence, it's certainly a startling one.

Stromer's 'Spinosaurus B' material: proportionally similar to the 'neotype' specimen, but does that tell us anything about spinosaurid proportions? Another image borrowed from Theropoda.
However, Evers et al. also attach some important caveats to this point. Stromer's notes clearly state that he did not consider the 'Spinosaurus B' material to represent one individual, and his testimony is the closest thing we have to a report on the excavation of the material. He specifically comments on the hindlimb being too small and slender to match the vertebrae, and thus interpreted them as representing a second individual. Other workers have agreed that this material must represent multiple animals or even several types of dinosaur (discussions about the possibly chimeric nature of Stromer's spinosaur specimens are not new - e.g. Rauhut 2003; Novas et al. 2005). Interpretation of the Spinosaurus B material as representing one animal is thus against some current thought and, of course, Stromer's original declaration. While the 'neotype' specimen might make a case for Stromer being mistaken, we really need to know more about the collection history to ascertain that. We're left with an intriguing set of measurements hinting at the reduced hindlimbs proposed by Ibrahim et al., but little in the way of objective information to explain their significance. The discovery of new specimens is needed to establish whether some spinosaurids were really short-legged, or if confusion of specimen inventories just made it look that way. In short, and no-doubt to the disdain of people who lose sleep about 'what science has done' to one of their favourite theropods, there's still something to play for with these short-legged spinosaurids.

So that's the latest chapter of research in Spinosaurus, then: I don't doubt that it's going to cause a lot of discussion in popular and academic circles. My personal take-home is that we seem to know less about Spinosaurus than might have been recently suggested, or at least that some issues need to be ironed out before we can develop a clear picture of what Spinosaurus is, and what sort of lifestyle it led. I don't know that any recent proposals about this animal have been shot down entirely yet, although clear gauntlets have been established for some of the more extreme ideas suggested in the last few years. It's going to be very interesting to see how others interpret these latest developments in the ongoing Spinosaurus saga, and where our understanding of this animal moves to next.

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References


  • Evers, S. W., Rauhut, O. W. M, Milner, A. C, McFeeters, B, & Allain R. (2015) A reappraisal of the morphology and systematic position of the theropod dinosaur Sigilmassasaurus from the “middle” Cretaceous of Morocco. PeerJ 3:e1323
  • Ibrahim, N., Sereno, P. C., Dal Sasso, C., Maganuco, S., Fabbri, M., Martill, D. M., & Zouhri, S., Myhrvold, N. and Iurino, D. A. (2014). Semiaquatic adaptations in a giant predatory dinosaur. Science, 345(6204), 1613-1616.
  • Novas, F., Dalla Vecchia, F., & Pais, D. (2005). Theropod pedal unguals from the Late Cretaceous (Cenomanian) of Morocco, Africa. Revista del Museo Argentino de Ciencias Naturales nueva serie, 7(2), 167-175.
  • Rauhut, O. W. M. (2003). Special Papers in Palaeontology, The Interrelationships and Evolution of Basal Theropod Dinosaurs (No. 69). Blackwell Publishing.

The lifestyle of Tanystropheus, part 1: was that neck too heavy for use on land?

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Two Tanystropheus longobardicus tussle in Triassic Europe. There's a distinct lack of water supporting their necks in this scene, and some might suggest this makes such behaviour impossible for these animals. But does it? Read on...
One of the most famous non-dinosaurian denizens of the Mesozoic is Tanystropheus, a spectacularly long-necked reptile which lived across Europe and Asia in Middle-Late Triassic times. We've known about this 5-6 m long animal since fragmentary fossils were pulled from Italian Triassic rocks in 1886, and now regard it as a particularly large and anatomically extreme member of the Protorosauria. This is a Permian-Triassic group of archosauromorphs (all reptiles more closely related to crocodylians and birds that lizards) that spawned numerous aberrant taxa, such as drepanosaurs, Sharovipteryx and Dinocephalosaurus. Within Protorosauria, Tanystropheus can be considered a tanystropheid, closely related to similar, but shorter-necked and smaller-bodied species such as Tanytrachelos and Langobardisaurus.Tanystropheus longobardicus is by far the best known Tanystropheus representative, and the one we always think of when discussing this animal, but something like five Tanystropheus species have been named over the years. It is currently uncertain how many of these should be considered valid and, of those, which ones truly represent Tanystropheus and not some other type of protorosaur. There are hints that longobardicus might be the sole representative of this genus, but work on this is ongoing.

We know a lot about Tanystropheus because it's fossils are not uncommon, and many of them are complete or every nearly so. Its remains occur in Alpine Europe, the Middle East and China and we can conclude that, weird as it seems, the Tanystropheus bauplan and life strategy was a successful one. But exactly what that strategy was remains a bone of contention for palaeontologists. Summarised simply, opinion is divided over whether Tanystropheus was confined to aquatic habits, at least above a certain age and body size, or else capable of living terrestrially as a shore-patrolling, 'animated fishing rod'. Unsurprisingly, the principle source of this contention is its neck anatomy: clearly long and relatively stiff in life, was it so heavy that would over-balance the animal if not supported in water? Or was the neck anatomy not as heavy as commonly supposed and really no great hindrance to life on land? Other aspects of Tanystropheus form have also influenced this debate, including limb structure and tail anatomy, but it seems fair to say these discussions persist because experts disagree about the significance of that crazy neck. Renesto (2005) and Nosotti (2007) provide recent overviews and contributions to this long-running controversy.

I've been wanting to cover Tanystropheus lifestyle here for some time now, and I've ended up with sufficient material to spread discussion over two posts. In the next article I'll be discussing nuances of arguments for aquatic and terrestrial habits, but, first, I want to satisfy some personal curiosity over how Tanystropheus was constructed. Specifically, I'm interested in the mass distribution of this animal: is it really _that_ front heavy? There are plenty of terrestrial animals with very long necks - sauropods, giraffes, some pterosaurs - and we don't worry about them toppling over. Moreover, although neck mass is frequently mentioned as critical to understanding Tanystropheus lifestyle, to my knowledge, there isn't any information available on its body volumes or mass (if I'm wrong, please tell me below). I thought I'd see what I could find out about this myself using the GDI (Graphic Double Integration) method of volumetric mass estimation, a quick and easy way to get a sense of mass and body fractions of fossil animals. It basically involves chopping up drawings of animals to determine volumes of body segments, then multiplying these by a suitable density - check out this excellent SV:POW! summary for a full lowdown.

Tanystropheuslongobardicus as reconstructed by Rupert Wild in 1973. Image borrowed from Palaeos.
GDI methods require a clear layout of animal form to measure and divide into segments. There is no shortage of life restorations of Tanystropheus out there, and plenty of photographs of near complete specimens, but objective, modern portrayals of its anatomy are hard to come by. Rupert Wild's skeletal reconstruction from the 1970s (above) seems to remain a common frame of reference, and a David Peters reconstruction is sometimes used as an alternative. Neither really seemed suited for my purposes here, the crouched poses obscuring anatomical details, some specifics of vertebral count being inaccurate to modern interpretations, and the latter being produced with techniques of questionable reliability. I decided to try my hand at producing a new skeletal reconstruction based on the large, near complete Tanystropheus skeleton described in detail by Rieppel et al. (2010): GMPKU-P-1527:

Tanystropheus cf. longobardicus specimen GMPKU-P-1527, as depicted by Rieppel et al. (2010).
I wanted a large animal because the Tanystropheus neck seems to increase in length disproportionately to body size (Tschanz 1988). I want to give this animal the best chance of falling over, so it makes sense to use the largest neck possible. GMPKU-P-1527 is articulated and includes most of the neck, missing only the relatively short anterior 3.5 vertebrae (of 13), the skull, and the end of the tail. I reconstructed these missing parts using smaller Tanystropheus specimens (from Nosotti 2007) and Wild's widely-used 'adult' skull reconstruction. These came together to form a skeleton measuring 3.5 m as reconstructed, and likely over 4 m if the vertebral column were completely straightened. This is not as large as we think this animal could get, but is c. 70% of maximum size, and the minimal amount of proportional inference and cross scaling means we should be looking at a fairly authentic image of Tanystropheus form. The results are below.

Tanystropheus cf. longobardicus skeletal reconstruction, almost entirely based on GMPKU-P-1527. See text and illustration below for details on which bits are borrowed from other specimens.
The length of the limbs here is quite striking. Note that they aren't depicted in a true sprawling pose, because foreshortening would impact measurements for the mass calculation, but I depicted a crouched pose which hopefully conveys something of a low, sprawling gait. I also followed Nosotti's (2007) suggestion of digitigrady, which boosts the standing height a bit. Despite the low pose, I immediately get a different vibe from this image to that of Wild's classic, sitting reconstruction. Simply putting the animal on its feet gives the impression of the limbs and body being more proportionate to the neck. The arc of the neck follows that preserved in GMPKU-P-1527 quite closely, a pose also occurring in several other articulated Tanystropheus specimens. As depicted, I don't think it conflicts with recent interpretations of Tanystropheus neck arthrology (e.g. Renesto 2005). The body outline should be non-controversial, pretty much following the outline of the skeleton and hitting major muscle landmarks.

Time to chop this guy and up see what it's made of. Ideally, we'd want full orthographic views for a GDI mass estimate, but I've not had time to produce a multi-view skeletal. This means we're going to have to make predictions of body width. For the neck, body and tail, I decided to calculate width as 2/3 of body segment height, this being indicated by the proportions of Tanystropheus neck and tail verts, and the fact the dorsal ribs straighten out as they approach the lateral margins of the body. The 2/3 figure is a little arbitrary and arm-wavy, but seems more precise than assuming a circular cross section across the entire body. Other elements - the head and limbs - were modelled as having circular cross sections, however. You can see how I chopped the reconstruction up below: note that this uses an earlier, differently posed version of the skeletal shown above, and that the limbs are somewhat straighter. The bone sizes are no different, however, so influences on mass estimation should be negliable.

GDI mass estimation on Tanystropheus cf. longobardicus. Grey portions of the skeleton show which parts were modelled on other specimens. Numbers in parentheses give mass fractions for each body component, and the grey shapes indicate the cross-sectional shape used for that part of the body.
The entire animal shakes out to 26.7 L, and using a middle-of-the-road reptile density of 0.85 kg/L, the animal masses 22.9 kg. Of more interest to us is the mass percentages of each component, which are indicated in parentheses in the illustration above. You can see that the neck and head together are a hair away from 20% of the body mass, despite accounting for something like half the length of the animal. Virtually all of this 20% represents neck, of course, the head being less than 1% of the overall mass. As is usual for tetrapods, the trunk volume dominates all, being 50% of overall bulk despite only just exceeding 50 cm long in a 3.5 m long animal.

What do these figures actually mean? 20% doesn't seem like that much in the grand scheme of things, it being balanced by the other 80% of the body. These are certainly not values which make me think this animal perpetually toppled over unless it was in water. But can we be more precise here - how does this neck fraction stand up to other long-necked animals? For brachiosaurid sauropods, Mike Taylor (2009) suggested the neck accounted for 14% of the body mass, while Don Henderson (2010) suggested 8% for the same animals, noting that this was the largest neck mass fraction in his dataset of 10 volumetric sauropod mass predictions. Mitchell et al. (2013) did not report exact head and neck mass fractions for a large set of giraffes, but eyeballing their data suggests male giraffe necks and heads account for around 14% of body mass, with females slightly less than that. These are all significantly lower than the 20% I've estimated for Tanystropheus, implying that my gut feeling might be wrong: maybe it did have quite a heavy neck and, perhaps, was at greater risk of overbalancing.

However, it strikes me that giraffes and sauropods are not particularly good analogues for Tanystropheus, because their anatomy is built around a fundamentally different set of demands: processing of plant material. Herbivores need large guts to get the most from their nutrient-poor diet, equating to proportionally larger trunk volumes. Anyone who's played with volumetric mass estimations will know that even slight adjustments to trunk proportions can have a big impact on absolute mass and tissue fractions because they represent the biggest components of most animal bodies. We therefore can't ignore the requirement for herbivore torsos to be large when comparing them to non-herbivores like Tanystropheus. Our problem here is that finding a long-necked terrestrial carnivore to compare with Tanystropheus is challenging. Such body plans have been rare throughout geological time and are entirely unrepresented nowadays. We're not entirely licked, though: following the laws of monster movie science, any challenge involving a poorly understood, freakish creature is best solved with another poorly understood and freakish animal: in this case a long-necked azhdarchid pterosaur. Azhdarchid palaeoecology has a history of contention and controversy, but no-one believes that they were aquatic animals, or herbivorous, or at risk of toppling forward without environmental aid. This is despite azhdarchids bearing neck/trunk proportions similar to those of Tanystropheus, as well as much larger heads. We just assume they could carry their heads and necks one way or another, because all indications are that they were not adapted for an aquatic existence.

Taking a GDI approach to the Zhejiangopterus linhaiensis skeletal I produced earlier this year, I attempted to gather some data on azhdarchid body volumes and masses. As before, I estimated widths rather than producing full orthogonal views. The head and neck were assumed to be half as wide as tall, with the neck widths not permitted to exceed those of the skull. All other elements are treated as having circular cross sections. Azhdarchid torsos, forelimbs and necks are all highly pneumatised, so I gave these low tissue densities of 0.7 kg/L (about the lowest density recorded for modern birds), while the legs were given a more typical density of 0.85 kg/L. The breakdown and results:

Zhejiangopterus linhaiensis gets the GDI treatment. As above, numbers in parentheses indicate mass fractions, and the grey shapes indicate cross sectional area used in the calculations. Skeletal based on data in Cai and Wei (1994).
First things first, I was happy to see the animal come out at 7.9 kg - that's in line with most post-2000 interpretations of pterosaur mass, and seems about right for an animal with a 2.5-3 m wingspan. That makes me think the constituent volumes and masses are probably in a sensible ball park. In terms of body component masses, the torso - famously small in derived pterodactyloids like azhdarchids - provides less than 25%, the neck is just over 25%, and the head and paired forelimbs are 22% each. The legs account for just under 6%, and the tail might as well not exist. This puts - wow - almost 50% of the mass in front of the shoulders in this reconstruction. But even accepting that I've been generous with neck tissue in my reconstruction (following a reptilian, rather than avian pattern of neck musculature), and that some cross sectional shapes used here could be refined, it seems unlikely we could slim the head and neck tissues down to the mass fractions seen in long-necked herbivores. Even if my estimates are out by a factor of 2, the neck and head will still account for more mass than the same components in Tanystropheus. This finding makes the neck tissue fraction of the Tanystropheus model look a lot less aberrant, as well as verifying the suspicion that lifestyles, and not just anatomy, are important factors when comparing animal bauplans.

Let's bring all this together. While the sums outlined here are provisional, back-of-the-envelope-type stuff, I find them sufficient to at least make me sceptical of claims that Tanystropheus has a terrestrially-untenable mass distribution. At least one group of non-aquatic Mesozoic carnivores seem more front heavy, and a basic model of Tanystropheus mass distribution does not raise major alarm bells about relative neck and head weight. I could be convinced otherwise, and obviously there's a lot more than could - and should - be done to investigate this issue, but I currently don't see neck mass as a significant barrier to terrestrial habits. This exercise has also brought home the fact that we might not know much about the adaptive and structural significance of extremely long necks in carnivorous animals, and that we should be careful comparing them to other long-necked creatures. Perhaps our unfamiliarity with this extinct bauplan, along with our generally poor intuitive sense of animal mass and tissue fractions (see this discussion and comment field at SV:POW!), means we should be extra cautious about gut-feeling interpretations of such creatures. I guess the bottom line is that running numbers to test our intuitions is an essential part of understanding unfamiliar animal types, especially if we're suggesting those assumptions are significant for extinct animal behaviour and lifestyle.

There'll be more on Tanystropheus in the next post, where the plan is to review recent arguments for and against different lifestyles in this animal. In the mean time, I'm very curious to know what others make of the ideas presented here. Would you interpret these results differently? Would you have reconstructed Tanystropheus in a different way? The comment field is open...

Tanystropheus was brought to you by Patreon, a weekend of downtime and the letter 'S'

I've really enjoyed putting this research-led post together, and would like to do more of this sort of stuff in future. Obviously they take a little longer than 'routine' posts but, thankfully, this time investment is possible because of my patrons, individuals who support this site via my Patreon page. From $1 a month you can be a patron too: this gets you access to cool, exclusive content and rewards, and helps me make my art and writing more detailed and interesting. Thanks to all those who've signed on already - your contributions are really appreciated.

References


  • Cai, Z., and Wei, F. (1994). "On a new pterosaur (Zhejiangopterus linhaiensis gen. et sp. nov.) from Upper Cretaceous in Linhai, Zhejiang, China." Vertebrata Palasiatica, 32: 181-194.
  • Henderson, D. M. (2004). Tipsy punters: sauropod dinosaur pneumaticity, buoyancy and aquatic habits. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B: Biological Sciences, 271(Suppl 4), S180-S183.
  • Mitchell, G., Roberts, D., Sittert, S., & Skinner, J. D. (2013). Growth patterns and masses of the heads and necks of male and female giraffes. Journal of Zoology, 290(1), 49-57.
  • Nosotti, S. (2007). Tanystropheus Longobardicus (Reptilia, Protorosauria): Re-interpretations of the Anatomy Based on New Specimens from the Middle Triassic of Besano (Lombardy, Northern Italy). Società Italiana di Scienze Naturali e Museo Civico di Storia Naturale.
  • Renesto, S. I. L. V. I. O. (2005). A new specimen of Tanystropheus (Reptilia, Protorosauria) from the Middle Triassic of Switzerland and the ecology of the genus. Rivista Italiana di Paleontologia e Stratigrafia, 111(3), 377-394.
  • Rieppel, O., Jiang, D. Y., Fraser, N. C., Hao, W. C., Motani, R., Sun, Y. L., & Sun, Z. Y. (2010). Tanystropheus cf. T. longobardicus from the early Late Triassic of Guizhou Province, southwestern China. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 30(4), 1082-1089.
  • Taylor, M. P. (2009). A re-evaluation of Brachiosaurus altithorax Riggs 1903 (Dinosauria, Sauropoda) and its generic separation from Giraffatitan brancai (Janensch 1914). Journal of vertebrate Paleontology, 29(3), 787-806.
  • Tschanz, K. A. R. L. (1988). Allometry and heterochrony in the growth of the neck of Triassic prolacertiform reptiles. Palaeontology, 31(4), 997-1011.

The lifestyle of Tanystropheus, part 2: coastal fisher or first-day-on-the-job aquatic predator?

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The new Tanystropheus cf. longobardicus skeletal reconstruction I presented in my last post. What the dickens did this crazy animal do? That's what we're discussing today.
What sort of animal was the Triassic, long-necked Eurasian protorosaur Tanystropheus? As we discovered in the last post, the lifestyle of Tanystropheus remains controversial over a century after it was first discovered. There is near universal agreement that it ate swimming prey such as fish and squid, but opinion is divided over whether it was obligated to aquatic, swimming lifestyles because of the burden of its long neck, or whether it was a water margin specialist that plundered small prey from shorelines. Previously, we discussed a core argument for the aquatic hypothesis, that the Tanystropheus neck would over-balance the animal. Calculations presented in the last post suggested that the mass distribution of Tanystropheus is not as weird as we might think, and certainly less so than than that of another group of long necked reptiles we are confident lived out of water, the azhdarchid pterosaurs. Based on this very basic test, I expressed some skepticism about the neck being simply too heavy to permit a terrestrial existence.

In the second discussion, I want to look at some finer aspects of Tanystropheus anatomy and palaeontology, how they've been interpreted, and what they might mean for its lifestyle. There are several areas which are relevant here: what we know of Tanystropheus diet, the palaeoenvironmental context of Tanystropheus fossils, aspects of tail and limb anatomy, and of course, the functionality of its neck. There's a lot to get through here, so let's not waste any more time on preamble.

Fossil record

An obvious line of inquiry about ancient animal habits is the palaeoenvironmental bias of its fossil remains, and the fossil organisms it is found with. We mentioned last time that Tanystropheus was a wide-ranging taxon, occurring across Europe, Israel and China in locations representing the coasts and shallow waters around the ancient Tethys ocean. About half of Tanystropheus fossils come from shallow marine settings, the rest being derived from more coastal environments: river and estuarine environments, lagoons, intertidal settings and so forth (for a brief overview, check out the Fossilworks entry on this animal: there's a few localities missing, and the 'terrestrial' occurrence of Tanystropheus there is erroneous, but it gives a flavour of its depositional context). We often find marine fish and seagoing reptiles in the same beds as Tanystropheus,but it also occurs alongside terrestrial or freshwater species such as temnospondyls, terrestrial reptiles, stem mammals and plants in a number of locations. The link of Tanystropheus to these faunas seems complex: in at least one locality with fluctuating marine and terrigenous influences, Tanystropheus fossils only occur in horizons containing a mix of highly terrestrial and highly marine reptiles, without many 'intermediate' semi-aquatic species (Renesto 2005). Because Tanystropheus was likely not adapted for a truly seagoing lifestyle, this has been argued as evidence of it being part of a terrestrial community rather than a marine one (Renesto 2005).

Collectively, it seems difficult to argue a strong terrestrial or marine bias in this record. Tanystropheus seems to have lived in or around aquatic environments, maybe with a bias to those under marine influences, but it does not seem a stranger to brackish or freshwater settings. There is perhaps something of a skewed association with marine animals, but it occurs with enough 'terrestrial' forms to keep the idea of a coastal fishing lifestyle buoyant. It would be interesting to put some actual numbers on this and see how commonly associated with terrestrial influences Tanystropheus is, or whether a couple of sites are skewing our perception of data. Maybe that's a job for another blog post - until then, we probably need to look at other sources of information for clearer lifestyle indications.

Gut content

The idea that Tanystropheus ate swimming prey is verified by the association of digested fish remains and cephalopod hooks in the gut regions of articulated specimens (Wild 1973; Li 2007). The latter is sometimes considered smoking gun evidence for the swimming Tanystropheus lifestyle hypothesis, it being reasoned that cephalopods are exclusively marine animals, mostly found far out to sea, and unlikely to be eaten from land (e.g. Nosotti 2007).

A number of heron species, including the globally distributed black-crowned night heron (Nycticorax nycticorax), are known squid-eaters. Image from Wikimedia (CC ), by Kuribo.
Squiddy gut content certainly matches the idea of a marine-influenced lifestyle for Tanystropheus, but several non-marine, and sometimes non-aquatic, birds and mammals challenge the idea that it had to be a swimming animal to have ingested them. Examples include night herons (Hall and Cress 2008) and several types of mustelid (e.g. Hartwick 1983; Beja 1991). Exactly how night herons obtain squid is not documented in detail, but photographs of twoother heron species demonstrate squid can be apprehended without venturing out to sea, or even into deep water. As might be expected, cephalopods also frequently wash up on beaches (sometimes still alive, and in huge numbers) allowing animals such as bears and wolves to also access cephalopod meat. Humans are also adept predators of squid in coastal settings. Shore-based squid angling is reportedly a growing hobby around the world (and apparently requires only very basic fishing equipment) and we routinely collect cephalopods from intertidal environments for use as bait or cooking ingredients (Denny and Gains 2007). Contrary to expectations, accessing cephalopod prey from shore environments appears quite possible for a number of differently adapted species. It seems premature to rule out a coastal fishing lifestyle for Tanystropheus just because it sometimes ate squid-like animals.

Anatomy

One of the most famous and complete Tanystropheus longobardicus specimens known, MSNM BES SC 1018. This illustration is from Nosotti's huge (2007) monograph.
With the fossil record and gut content providing slightly ambiguous insight into Tanystropheus habits, its functional anatomy is probably going to be a deciding card here. A lot has been said about the functional morphology of Tanystropheus, and there is a lack of consensus on many issues. For instance, its neck flexion has been described as almost 'swan-like' (Wild 1973); broom handle-stiff (Tschanz 1988), or somewhere inbetween (Renesto 2005). Its tail has been considered lousy for aquatic propulsion by some (Wild 1973; Renesto 2005) but well suited for the job by others (Tschanz 1988; Nosotti 2007). Clearly, some of these ideas must be erroneous, them being too polarised for all contributing parties to be correct. Such confused functional interpretations are not without precedent: Darren Naish and I noted a similar situation with azhdarchid pterosaurs in our 2008 paper: maybe this is simply what happens when we try to understand weird fossil species.

The main points of contention about Tanystropheus functional anatomy concern its tail, limbs and neck. We might link these attributes to two principle functions: locomotion and foraging. Let's start with the former. Proponents of the aquatic Tanystropheus hypothesis suggest the tail was the likely propulsive organ, it being considered that the limbs are too long and gracile to function as effective paddles (Tschanz 1988; Nosotti 2007), even if the foot might have some aquatic adaptations (below; Kuhn-Schnyder 1959; Wild 1973). Near 'horizontal' articulations between the posterior trunk and tail vertebrae appear to have permitted this part of the body to undulate laterally, permitting a crocodile-like sculling approach to swimming.

Soft-tissue preservation around the tail of Tanystropheus cf. longobardicus specimen MCSN 4451. We're looking at the underside of the tail in the left of the image here - note the width of the soft-tissue (the big grey mass). The verts on the right are shown in left lateral view. From Renesto (2005).
A fly in the ointment here is the gross tail anatomy of Tanystropheus. Rather than being long, and comprised of the robust, tall vertebrae expected of a tail-propelled aquatic reptile, its tail is slender, relatively short and actually broader than tall - hardly an ideal sculling organ (Renesto 2005). This fact has been noted by proponents of the swimming lifestyle hypothesis, and it has been proposed that the tail sported some sort of fin to modify it into a swimming organ (Nosotti 2007). Well, maybe, but this idea is entirely without support from fossil data. Readers may recall that marine reptile workers have been quite ingenious in their ability to detect fins and flukes from osteological correlates, none of which are obvious in the tail of Tanystropheus. Moreover, preserved soft-tissues from the anterior Tanystropheus tail region (above) show no signs of fins but instead a broad tail base unconducive to aquatic propulsion (Renesto 2005). Also worth mentioning is recent work on the relationship between vertebral articulation and swimming capability in crocodyliforms. They can reflect sculling behaviour, but articulations like those seen in Tanystropheus can also be linked to preventing trunk collapse during non-aquatic locomotion (Molnar et al. 2014). We could go on, but I think the point has been made that arguments for the Tanystropheus tail being a swimming organ are, at best, not without complication, and perhaps better described as uncompelling.

Turning our attention to the limbs, I mentioned in the last post that I was surprised how 'leggy'Tanystropheus was when restored as walking rather than, as we're used to seeing it, squatting. The limb proportions and girdle sizes of Tanystropheus compare well with non-aquatic protorosaurs such as Macrocnemus and Langobardisaurus (e.g. Renesto 2005; Nosotti 2007) and, as alluded to above, it is immediately clear that these limbs are not flippers. Not only are they too long and gracile for effective use as hydrofoils, but their long bones are hollow - unexpected features of an aquatic animal. Another protorosaur - Dinocephalosaurus - gives an insight into how these reptiles could modify their limbs into efficient flippers (below), and, without going into detail, they're nothing like the limbs of Tanystropheus (see Renesto 2005 for a long discussion of this). Tanystropheus limb joints are mostly robust and well-defined (but see below), and its hands and feet are strongly built and compactly structured. Some differences between hand and foot proportions can be seen: the hands are short, the feet rather long, and the latter characterised by a peculiarly long first bone in the fifth toe. The limb girdles are well developed, looking proportionally comparable (speaking from pure eyeballing here, not precise measurements) to those of large monitor lizards and crocs. I find the shoulder blade of particular interest, as it is rather large and broad, subequal in proportions to the coracoid (the lower portion of the shoulder girdle). This contrasts with many aquatic animals, which tend to maximise the size of the coracoids while reducing the scapula.

Variations in protorosaur limb anatomy, demonstrated by the aquatic Dinocepahlosaurus (A-B) and Tanystropheus (C-D). Note how both the arm (A) and leg (B) of Dinocephalosaurus are short and wide compared to their equivalents in Tanystropheus (forelimb = C, hindlimb = D), making them much more effective flippers. You can also see the reduced mineralisation in the Tanystropheus wrist here. From Renesto (2005).
I have to agree that Tanystropheus limbs were probably unchallenged by non-aquatic habits (Renesto 2005) and, if this were any other species, I don't think we'd be disputing the fact that its limbs were likely capable of terrestrial locomotion. That said, there are undeniably some hints that Tanystropheus was not always walking on land. Several authors have noted that the wrist and ankle bones of Tanystropheus are not as well ossified as those of other protorosaurs (e.g. Rieppel 1989; Nosotti 2007), and some have suggested that the pelvic bones may also be somewhat less defined (Rieppel 1989). Moreover, the elongation of the fifth toe is atypical for a purely terrestrial reptile, but common among aquatic creatures (see Kuhn-Schnyder 1959 for a good illustration of this point). Proposals that this made the foot somewhat paddle-like, or supported Tanystropheus on soft, saturated substrates do not seem unreasonable. These are fairly minor modifications to the skeleton when viewed overall however: the reduced ossification in the wrist, ankle and pelvis is pretty minor - especially when we consider how cartilage-filled the joints of many giant terrestrial archosauromorphs can be (Holliday et al. 2010) - and the reconfiguration of foot bones do not override the otherwise elongate, gracile structure of the hindlimb. My overall interpretation of the limb configuration broadly agrees with that proposed by Renesto (2005): a bauplan suited to terrestrial locomotion with some aquatic leanings, rather than sustained aquatic propulsion.

Finally, we come to the neck. I've saved discussion of this for last because I consider much of its anatomy significant in terms of where Tanystropheus lived and how it accessed food. Discussing it earlier might have rendered other points a bit superfluous. We make a lot of noise about how strange the neck of this animal is, but Tanystropheus neck anatomy frequently converges with those of other long necked reptiles - pterosaurs and sauropods - and even some long-necked mammals. That doesn't necessarily make it less weird - it's definitely still an 'extreme' biological structure - but does help us put its neck anatomy in perspective with other animals, as well as highlighting significant adaptive differences to neck elongation in aquatic and non-aquatic species.

As with pterosaurs and sauropods, Tanystropheus went to great lengths to lighten its neck. Firstly, its neck is comprised of relatively few (13), slender vertebrae rather than dozens of short ones (see Rieppel et al. 2010 for discussion of cervical vertebra counts in this animal). This is about half as many as some other protorosaurs had (Reippel et al. 2008), and a far cry from the vertebral counts of some dinosaurs (including birds). A low vertebral count reduces the number of heavy joints and muscle attachments in any part of the axial column, so this is a good basis to having a lightweight neck. More weight was lost through hollowing the bony core of each vertebra, a condition Tanystropheus took so far as to need bony struts supporting the interior cavities of each vertebra. Note that there is no evidence that these bones were pneumatised, seemingly lacking openings through which airsacs could penetrate the bone walls. However, simply removing bone - one of the densest, heaviest materials in our bodies - would still throw out a lot of weight. The neck was likely lightly muscled, the mid-series vertebrae being long tubes with highly reduced processes for muscle anchorage (below) - in many respects, the vertebral bodies are similar to those of azhdarchid pterosaurs. The role of these tubular, slender mid-series neck vertebrae is confusing at first, but they make a bit more sense once we realise that most terrestrial animals control their necks via musculature anchoring to the top and base of the neck. This was likely true for Tanystropheus and azhdarchids because anterior and posteriormost neck vertebrae are the most complex parts of the neck skeleton, presumably reflecting attachment of more muscles in these regions. We might therefore assume their necks worked in a broadly similar to those of modern animals, weird as they are.

Three dimensionally preserved mid-series Tanystropheus vertebra described by Dalla Vecchia (2005).
The seemingly lessened set of neck muscles on the Tanystropheus neck would likely limit neck performance (i.e. the size of prey that could be lifted into the air) but, again, would facilitate weight reduction. Strong, restricting joints between the majority of the neck bones and bundles of elongate cervical ribs aided reduction of musculature further, passively resisting inter-vertebral movements which otherwise require muscle action or thick ligaments to control. Elongation of cervical ribs provides another bonus for mass reduction, this trait being linked to shifting muscles down the neck in sauropods and thus lightening the neck anterior (Taylor and Wedel 2013). With passive support structures in place, muscles operating around the neck base may have been able to support and move the neck quite easily. Indeed, areas where neck elevator muscles (such as levator scapulae and the trapezius) anchor on the shoulder blade are unusually broad and well developed in Tanystropheus compared to other protorosaurs, and certainly a lot larger than those of long-necked aquatic animals (Araújo and Correia 2015). These are useful muscles to emphasise if you're looking to economise neck mass, being able to both lift and turn the neck by simply varying the symmetry of their activation. We also see a good set of short, robust cervical ribs and broad coracoids at the base of the neck, anchoring muscles related to strong downward neck motion (unless Tanystropheus differed from all other tetrapods). As Mark Robinson preemptively commented on my last post, this is starting to sound a lot like works like a mechanical crane: a lightweight, strong beam operated by long muscles and ligaments (cables and pulleys in our analogy) from a powerful, mobile base. Quite how much motion was possible at the neck base is debated, but the fact that a number of articulated Tanystropheus specimens are preserved with distinctly elevated neck bases suggests it was more flexible than the rest of the neck, and perhaps capable of a large range of motion (Renesto 2005). This, of course, has implications for balance: if the neck could be drawn up as in fossil specimens the centre of mass would be quite far back in the body (see the last post for more on Tanystropheus mass distribution).

To me, this is all sounding quite sauropod- and azhdarchid-like: an economically constructed neck capable of somewhat limited, but sufficient motion to procure food in terrestrial habits, albeit food that doesn't put up too much of a fight. By contrast, the Tanystropheus neck compares quite poorly to those of long necked aquatic animals. For one, we expect a large number of short vertebrae in long-necked aquatic animals, this permitting greater numbers of muscles working on the neck skeleton. Aquatic animal neck bones are frequently expanded to enlarge the size of muscles attaching to them, these being required to move long appendages through viscous aquatic media. This makes for a heavy neck, but perennial support provided by water renders this a moot issue. Indeed, weight is often a commodity in water rather than a problem, it providing ballast against air-filled lungs or positively buoyant tissues - it's widely known that swimming tetrapods often have entirely solid bones to increase their mass further. The neck of Tanystropheus doesn't really match any of these features. While the number of neck bones is somewhat increased compared to other protorosaurs, the aquatic Dinocephalosaurus has almost twice as many more - 25 - in a neck of similar proportions. Tanystropheus neck length is mainly achieved by stretching each vertebra tremendously, the addition of another three vertebrae perhaps merely being a supportive measure to boost neck length overall (birds and sauropods do the same thing - adding more neck vertebrae is not strictly an aquatic adaptation). Reduction of neck mass in Tanystropheus neck (and limb) bones is also at odds with expectations for an aquatic animal, the hollow cores, stiffened joints and posterior displacement of musculature being unnecessary and even disadvantageous in an aquatic setting. It's actually hard to imagine the neck of Tanystropheus being pulled through water efficiently at all, the reduced muscle profile and long vertebrae being quite problematic and under-powered for this task. It certainly does not seem well suited to chasing and grabbing fast moving aquatic prey such as squid and fish. To me, Tanystropheus neck anatomy just seems to make a lot more sense out of water and, given how much emphasis Tanystropheus put on its neck tissues, I think this is a pivotal consideration when attempting to understanding its lifestyle.

Summary time: a twist in the tale?

Let's sum up these three lines of discussion. The fossil record of Tanystropheus suggests we could find it in a variety of aquatic settings - we might average these out to say it was a denizen of coastal and nearshore environments. It clearly had a taste for seafood, although we need to be careful not to over-state what this might mean about its lifestyle. Anatomically, it seems its propulsor apparatus is best suited to non-aquatic settings and that strange neck finds overwhelmingly superior comparison to terrestrial tetrapods than it does aquatic ones. I therefore have to agree with pretty much everything said about Tanystreopheus anatomy reflecting a 'coastal fishing' habit rather than a strictly aquatic one (e.g. Renesto 2005). I actually struggle to understand how this animal would function as a swimming predator given that its anatomy seems poorly suited to an aquatic lifestyle. Indeed, even proponents of this lifestyle acknowledge that Tanystropheus must have been a sluggish, ineffectual aquatic predator, limited to ambushing prey from darkness (e.g. Nosotti 2007). This brings us to a twist to our Tanystropheus story: acknowledging some big issues with the Tanystropheus swimming hypothesis, Nosotti (2007) proposed that it was a newcomer to the aquatic realm, still carrying a lot of anatomical baggage from terrestrial ancestors. It doesn't look much like an aquatic animal because, in evolutionary terms, it's Tanystropheus first day on the job and it's still learning the adaptive ropes for being a successful marine predator.

My preferred lifestyle interpretation for Tanystropheus: a Triassic croc-o-heron which snatched prey from shorelines and promontories around coastal waterways. Note the animals perched on rocks out to sea - I have no problem with this animal swimming per se (as noted above, there is reason to think it was somewhat aquatically adapted), I just don't think it lived in water.
Personally, I find this sort of argumentation weak. It implies Tanystropheus is somehow exempt from relationships between morphology and function well established in other animals, and seems like an excuse to dismiss contrary evidence more than it does a robust hypothesis. Above all else, this proposal suffers from elevating the proposal of aquatic Tanystropheus to a foregone truth of its palaeobiology, and structuring other lines of evidence around that - I do not think this is not a positive approach to these sort of palaeontological investigations. I would argue contrarily that, when viewed in context of other tetrapods, the weight of evidence is against an aquatic lifestyle, but quite consistent with a more terrestrially-based habit, and that this forms a better starting point for considering its lifestyle. To my mind, Tanystropheus taphonomy, gut content and functional anatomy are fully consistent with it being a Triassic variant on a heron, an animal which struck at swimming prey while supported on land or in bodies of shallow water. Its smattering of minor aquatic adaptations might have been useful to cross small bodies of water, support itself on wet, soft substrates and access better fishing sites. However, the morphological onus seems to be on movement unsupported by deep water, and it might be assumed these formed a minority of adaptive pressures on Tanystropheus anatomy. Although it is difficult to think of a perfect modern analogue for this, we might find comparable functionality and behaviours in a variety of birds, crocodylians and lizards.

OK, time to call it a day with Tanystropheus for now, although we're not done with weird Triassic taxa yet. I've definitely caught their bug, and I'm sure we'll be spending time with several more of these fascinating oddballs in the near future. Before then, the last post I have planned this year returns us to familiar dinosaur territory, featuring an especially obscure species none of you will be familiar with. I can barely remember what it's called... Threecerasaurus? Trihornedabottoms? Dang - I'm sure I'll remember by next time.

This overly-long article and its artwork are made possible by Patreon

Regular readers will know that this blog and artwork is sponsored by patrons who pledge support at my Patreon page. For as little as $1 a month you can help keep this blog going and, as a reward, you get to see a bunch of exclusive content such as prints, a discount at my art store, and bonus posts not seen anywhere else. Articles posted here also typically get some 'bonus content'. For this post, I'll be discussing the scientific and palaeoartistic reasoning behind the two Tanystropheus paintings seen accompanying my two articles on this animal. As always, I'm very grateful to everyone who signs up!

References

  • Araújo, R., & Correia, F. (2015). Plesiosaur pectoral myology. Palaeontologia Electronica, 18(1), 1-32.
  • Beja, P.R. (1991). Diet of otters (Lutra lutra) in closely associated freshwater, brackish and marine habitats in south-west Portugal. Journal of Zoology (London), 225: pp. 141-152
  • Dalla Vecchia, F. M. (2005). Resti di Tanystropheus, saurotterigie e “rauisuchi”(Reptilia) nel Triassico Medio della Val Aupa (Moggio Udinese, Udine). Gortania, 27, 25-48.
  • Denny, M. W., & Gaines, S. D. (2007). Encyclopedia of tidepools and rocky shores (No. 1). Univ of California Press.
  • Hall, C. S., & Kress, S. W. (2008). Diet of nestling Black-crowned Night-herons in a mixed species colony: implications for tern conservation. The Wilson Journal of Ornithology, 120(3), 637-640.
  • Hartwick, B. (1983). Octopus dofleini. In Cephalopod Life Cycles, Vol. I: Species Accounts, ed. P.R. Boyle, pp. 277-293. Academic Press, London
  • Holliday, C. M., Ridgely, R. C., Sedlmayr, J. C., & Witmer, L. M. (2010). Cartilaginous epiphyses in extant archosaurs and their implications for reconstructing limb function in dinosaurs. PLoS One, 5(9), e13120.
  • Kuhn-Schnyder, E. (1959). Hand und Fuss von Tanystropheus longobardicus (Bassani). Paläontologisches Institut der Universität Zürich. 921-941.
  • Li, C. (2007). A juvenile Tanystropheus sp.(Protorosauria, Tanystropheidae) from the Middle Triassic of Guizhou, China. Vertebrata PalAsiatica, 45(1), 41.
  • Molnar, J. L., Pierce, S. E., & Hutchinson, J. R. (2014). An experimental and morphometric test of the relationship between vertebral morphology and joint stiffness in Nile crocodiles (Crocodylus niloticus). The Journal of experimental biology, 217(5), 758-768.
  • Nosotti, S. (2007). Tanystropheus longobardicus (Reptilia, Protorosauria): Re-interpretations of the Anatomy Based on New Specimens from the Middle Triassic of Besano (Lombardy, Northern Italy). Società Italiana di Scienze Naturali e Museo Civico di Storia Naturale.
  • Renesto, S. (2005). A new specimen of Tanystropheus (Reptilia, Protorosauria) from the Middle Triassic of Switzerland and the ecology of the genus. Rivista Italiana di Paleontologia e Stratigrafia, 111(3), 377-394.
  • Rieppel, O., Li, C., & Fraser, N. C. (2008). The skeletal anatomy of the Triassic protorosaur Dinocephalosaurus orientalis Li, from the Middle Triassic of Guizhou Province, southern China. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 28(1), 95-110.
  • Rieppel, O., Jiang, D. Y., Fraser, N. C., Hao, W. C., Motani, R., Sun, Y. L., & Sun, Z. Y. (2010). Tanystropheus cf. T. longobardicus from the early Late Triassic of Guizhou Province, southwestern China. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 30(4), 1082-1089.
  • Taylor, M. P., & Wedel, M. J. (2013). Why sauropods had long necks; and why giraffes have short necks. PeerJ, 1, e36.
  • Tschanz, K. A. R. L. (1988). Allometry and heterochrony in the growth of the neck of Triassic prolacertiform reptiles. Palaeontology, 31(4), 997-1011.
  • Wild, R., (1973). Tanystropheus longobardicus Bassani: neue Ergebnisse. In: Kuhn-Schnyder, E., & Peyer, B. (eds). Die Triasfauna der Tessiner Kalkalpen, XXIII. Schweizerische Paläontologische Gesellschaft 95, 1-162.
  • Witton, M. P., & Naish, D. (2008). A reappraisal of azhdarchid pterosaur functional morphology and paleoecology. PLoS One, 3(5), e2271.

Dinosaur scales: some thoughts for artists

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Turns out that Triceratops horridus had some of the coolest scales of any dinosaur: huge, interlocking tubercles with low bosses and spikes. No other dinosaur has skin like this - at least, not without supporting osteoderms. But what are dinosaur scales actually like, and are we depicting them accurately in our art?

The discovery that many Mesozoic dinosaurs were superfuzzyfilamentouspinyalidocious has been an major influence on contemporary Mesozoic palaeoart. This has affected more than just how we depict the gross appearance of dinosaurian subjects, but also our attitudes to their behaviour, demeanour and place in the Mesozoic world. I've written a fair bit about scientific and artistic attitudes to filamentous dinosaurs and joined choruses arguing that it's important to get these new depictions 'right': we want to see filaments of appropriate morphology, size and distribution in reconstructions of these animals.

In light of this, it's a little peculiar that we have slightly more lax attitudes to how we reconstruct scaly integuments in these animals. We have some truly spectacular skin impressions from scaly dinosaurs which provide a wealth of information about their detailed appearance, and yet many of our reconstructions incorporate little of this data. Instead, we often create 'generically' scaly or wholly speculative integuments. Common issues include rendering of scales of homogenous size and shape across an entire animal, showing little difference in scalation between species, and issues with the size, proportions and shape of individual tubercles. Other times, and most egregiously, some individuals understate just how good the records for scales in certain species are, this seemingly giving license to render a more speculative, but flamboyant body covering. It's not just amateurs making these mistakes and, in the interests of not being a hypocrite, I'll state early on that I'm guilty of some of these issues in my own work.

With this in mind, I want to see out 2015 with a fresh look at four exceptionally interesting samples of dinosaur scales, providing something of a refresher for myself and other about scaly dinosaur integument and food for thought on restoring these animals. The amount of scaly skin we have from dinosaurs means this list could easily comprise 10 or even 20 examples, but for the sake of brevity and detail I'm keeping the count low. The specimens here may be familiar to veterans of dinosaur literature, but I hope to cover them in sufficient detail that much of this information will be new to many readers.

The Carnotaurus holotype skin impressions

Outside of the feathered coelurosaurs, substantial remains of theropod dinosaur skin are pretty rare. There are lots of scraps, many of which are only cautiously referred to Theropoda, but large pieces of skin associated with specific skeletons are very thin on the ground. These circumstances make the extensive scaly skin impressions known from the Late Cretaceous Carnotaurus sasteri type specimen quite special. This specimen is already impressive: described in detail by Bonaparte et al. 1990, it comprises a near complete skeleton missing only parts of the legs and end of the tail. The fact this specimen also preserves a host of skin remains means Carnotaurus is an especially well represented large theropod. Many readers will know the skin remains associated with this specimen makes it quite integral to debates over the ancestral state of dinosaur and theropod skin. As one of the few relatively 'basal' theropods known with decent skin remains, Carnotaurus has quite a bit of sway in discussions about filament development in theropods.

Illustration of the tail base Carnotaurus skin impressions from Bonaparte et al. (1990). The deep grooves in the specimen represent topography of the associated axial skeleton, in this case the haemal arches. Scale bars represent 10 cm.
The skin remains of Carnotaurus are a little patchy, but represent many different parts of the body: the anterior neck, shoulder girdle, mid-torso, and the base of the tail. The skull also bore skin impressions before they were accidentally prepared away. The largest piece of skin covers the tail base, and is figured above. A huge amount of detail can be seen across the various skin pieces. They have a relatively uniform texture, each piece showing a mix of two scale types. The most obvious are the large, 4-5 cm diameter tubercles which protrude slightly from the rest of the skin. Instead of being randomly arranged, these are spaced regularly from each other at roughly 10 cm intervals, separated by large numbers of relatively tiny, 5 mm wide scales. The larger tubercles bear something of a keel, but the smaller structures are quite featureless. Parallel furrows with vertical orientation, perhaps representing creases, are impressed into the mosaic of smaller tubercles, but do not seem to leave an impact on the larger structures. Figures in Bonaparte et al.'s (1990) description suggest that this general skin texture extends right the way around the tail - the reduction in tubercle size and density on the ventral surface commonly seen in artwork is erroneous in this respect.

For artists, the Carnotaurus skin impressions enable us to 'connect the dots' as goes the appearance of this dinosaur's hide. It seems scales were present from skull to tail base, and it doesn't seem much of a stretch to assume most or all of the animal was scaly. There are a few reconstructions of extensively filamentous Carnotaurus out there but, sorry guys, this just doesn't jive with what we know of the skin of this animal. It also seems we shouldn't be drawing Carnotaurus with obvious differences in skin texture across the body - it looks pretty homogenous in the fossils. Also noteworthy is the size of most of the scales. It seems we'd only notice the larger, keeled tubercles and furrows on this animal unless we were standing very close. Those 5 mm tubercles might perhaps register as mottled colouration, but I doubt anyone without superhuman vision could distinguish each scale from afar. Note that Carnotaurus is not unusual in this respect - a lot of dinosaurs had much smaller scales than we show in our illustrations.

The Howe Quarry diplodocids

One of the most striking components of the 1999 Walking with DinosaursDiplodocusreconstruction was the tall dermal spines adorning the midline of the animal. These structures were not the idle fantasy of sculptors and artists, but actually based sauropod skin fossils from Howe Quarry, a famous Wyoming Jurassic locality. Described by the late palaeoartist Stephen Czerkas in 1992, these finds are frequently discussed by palaeoartists because sauropod skin impressions are extremely rare. The impressions are associated with incomplete skeletons representing animals from 2-3 to 14 m in length, with some skin pieces being exceptionally large at 25 x 75 cm. Unfortunately, Czerkas (1992) did not identify the remains of these animals. Howe Quarry only yields at least one named diplodocid, the recently named Kaatedocus siberi, but it remains to be established if these scaled remains represent the same taxon.

The Howe Quarry diplodocid skin can be described as tessellating hexagonal scales with a rough surface, each about 3 cm across. There is no sign of these scales being divided by differently sized scales to form a pattern like those seen in Carnotaurus. The roughened texture of each scale is formed by small (2-3 mm) tubercles dotted across each large scale. As noted by several authors, this morphology is reminiscent of other examples of sauropod hide and seems common to at least Neosauropoda (e.g. Foster and Hunt-Foster 2011; Upchurch et al. 2015). As a rule, sauropods must've been quite rough to the touch.

Illustrations of the Howe Quarry diplodocid spines from Czerkas (1992). Top row, illustrations of specimens as preserved; bottom, interpretative drawings and reconstructed outlines. Scale bars equal 5 cm.
The truly exceptional part of the Howe Quarry diplodocid skin remains are the 14 subconical structures found dotted amongst the sauropod skeletons (above). Some were isolated, but several of these structures were found in connected rows. Perhaps the most significant of these were associated with a skin impressions wrapped around the tail base of one individual. It's from these remains that we can deduce that they were arranged in a row along back of the animal. This might seem like a minor feat, but - as anyone who's attempted to reconstruct stegosaur or titanosaur osteoderm arrangements might attest - being confident about the arrangement of extraneous pieces of dinosaur integument is nothing to be sniffed at. These cones vary quite a bit in size and shape. The largest, estimated at 18 cm tall when complete, seem to stem from the proximal end of the tail, but those of the distal end are smaller. Some cones are quite tall and straight, others blunter and recurved. The tips of all the cones are flattened laterally, but the bottoms more or less round in cross section. As with hexagonal scales on the body, these spines bear small tubercles across their surface. That these were purely comprised of the dermal tissues, and not osteoderms, is confirmed by the total absence of bone from any of the cones. Quite how far these conical structures extended across their owner's bodies cannot be said from the known remains, nor should we feel confident that we have the full spectrum of size or morphological variation of the spines (Czerkas 1992).

The detail and specificity of the Howe Quarry specimens give artists an atypically good insight into the appearance of these sauropods, and remain significant specimens or this reason. But as cool as this all is, the Howe Quarry skin specimens could be more useful. For instance, it is not clear how large each sauropod individual with associated skin remains was, and it's thus not clear how large those spines or scales were in comparison to each specific animal. The range of body lengths for the Howe Quarry specimens (2-3 -14 m) perhaps indicates that the scales of these animals (3 cm across) might be larger against body size than those ofmost other dinosaurs, but how visible they might be to observers is really dependent on knowing the sizes of the animals concerned. Likewise, the only published illustrations of these unique, interesting remains are pretty basic: it would be neat to get these specimens figured and described in a lot more detail. Hopefully, these details will be forthcoming soon.

The Sternberg/Osborn Edmontosaurus mummy

You can't discuss scaly dinosaurs without mentioning hadrosaurs. Research into hadrosaur skin is only second to that going into the fuzzballs at the other end of the dinosaur tree, there being so many skin impressions from these dinosaurs that we can gauge variation between species, see pathological skin tissues, and reconstruct virtually complete integuments for some taxa. This relative glut of data has spurned investigation into just why hadrosaur skin crops up so often. The exact cause remains elusive (it's seemingly unrelated to the rocks they occur in, nor their palaeoenvironmental or palaeoclimatic preferences), and it is suspected that there is something intrinsic to their skin anatomy which makes it more preservable (Davies 2012).

The amount of data we have for hadrosaur skin is really impressive. Here, in grey, you can see the skin impressions known for several hadrosaurid taxa: A, Brachylophosaurus canadensis; B, Edmontosaurus annectens; C, Gryposaurus notabilis; D, Maiasaura peeblesorum; E, Saurolophus angustirostris; F, Saurolophus osborni; G, Corythosaurus casuarius; H, Lambeosaurus lambei; I, Lambeosaurus magnicristatus; J, Parasaurolophus walkeri. From Bell (2014).
Even among hadrosaurids, Edmontosaurus annectens stands out as having particularly exemplar skin remains. Collectively, we have skin impressions from virtually its entire body (above). One of the most spectacular Edmontosaurus fossils with scaly remains has to be the "Trachodon mummy", discovered by George Sternberg (Charles Sternberg's son) in 1908 and described by Henry Fairfield Osborn in 1912. Osborn lavished attention on the integument of this near complete, fully articulated specimen, of which skin impressions covered the posterior jaws, neck, shoulders, chest, belly and forelimb. This specimen also revealed the presence of a low frill along at least the posterior part of the neck. Osborn's work on this animal stands out as a landmark document on extinct reptile integument, and interested parties really should download this article from the American Museum of Natural History here (NB. this is a 75 Mb download, it coming bundled with historic descriptions of the skulls of Tyrannosaurus and Allosaurus, whatever they are).

Pectoral (lower) and manual (upper) skin remains from the "Trachodon mummy" specimen. Notice the scales extending onto the unguals - these animals did not have nails or claws on their hands. From Osborn (1912).

Osborn's description revealed details of dinosaur skin which were, at that time, poorly known from other animals. He remarked on how thin the skin layer was and the remarkably small size of the scaly tubercles covering the body (1-5 mm). The fineness of the skin resulted in perhaps a third of it being accidentally destroyed during collection - 'dinosaur mummies' were an unknown quantity before this specimen, and collectors had no idea such data was at risk when skeletons were being uncovered. Edmontosaurus skin was a mosaic of larger and smaller tubercles, but their size variation is more continuous the obviously bimodal configurations of other species. The smaller (1-3 mm) tubercles were rounded structures located between larger (5-10 mm) hexagonal ones. Osborn called these 'pavement scales', and noted that they occurred in small (5-10 cm wide) clusters in some areas, such as the neck, inner surface of the arm and belly, but covered entire other parts of the body, such as the side of the chest, lateral surface of the arm and above the hips. The largest pavement scales, about 10 mm wide, occur on the lateral surface of the arm and tail. Both large and small scales occur on the frill (below). Folds, creases and smaller tubercles seem to correspond with intervertebral spaces, likely reflecting where these tissues flexed and creased with neck movement. The actual height of the frill is unknown from this specimen, the free margin being damaged during collection.

Osborn's illustration of the frill of Edmontosaurus. From Osborn (1912).
We could go on as there's so much detail on this specimen, but you're better off just checking out Osborn's description. He certainly provided lots of interesting details for artists: a visual summary of the distribution of larger and smaller scales in a cartoon hadrosaur (below), comments on his collaboration with Charles Knight to produce a 'trachodont' reconstruction in line with his new information on hadrosaur skin (also below), and even speculation on how pigmentation may pertain to the scale pattern. Of further interest is Osborn's comparison of the skin of Edmontosaurus with other hadrosaurs, this noting that the scales of his mummy specimen were a lot smaller than those of other, closely related animals. Other differences in hadrosaur skin texture has become even more apparent in subsequent years.

Left, Osborn's illustration of Edmontosaurus outlining the distribution of large scale clusters, with their size much enhanced for visibility; right, Charles Knight's iconic 1912 painting of the same taxon, an artwork produced in collaboration with Osborn and data from the "Trachodon mummy". From Osborn (1912) and The World of Charles R. Knight.

So, other than the obvious take-home - that we know a heck of a lot about the skin of Edmontosaurus -are there any obvious pointers for artists here? As noted for Carnotaurus above, it's doubtful that we'd be able to define individual scales or the patchy distribution of pavement scales on this large bodied (12-13 m long) species unless we were right next to it. Secondly, of all dinosaurs, surely this is one species to consider off limits to extensive filamentation. I suppose you could argue that filaments filled the few parts of this animal's hide left unrepresented in the fossil record, but that fuzz is going to look like weeds growing through a pavement if you're paying attention to where we know scales were. I also think it's worth paying attention to what Osborn meant by 'frill' along the back of this species: it does not appear to be a narrow, fibrous structure as commonly depicted, but a scaly continuation of adjacent dermal tissues.

The (unpublished) Triceratops superscales

I've saved what I consider to be one of the most interesting and impressive set of scale impressions for last, even though they are represented by specimens which have only currently received only very superficial publication through online news articles. These specimens belong to one of the most familiar and famous dinosaurs of all, the ceratopsid Triceratops horridus, and yet they demonstrate a scale topography completely unlike that of any other dinosaur. Their discovery is a particularly fun curve-ball because we have skin samples from a number of other ceratopsians, none of which are particularly like those now known for Triceratops. I'm reminded about earlier discussions of 'one skin fitting all': it seems ancient dinosaurs really could be just as varied in skin morphology as modern animals.

Huge patch of Triceratops skin, preserved as an internal mould - look at the size of the individual scales! Borrowed from the Rapid City Journal.

These extensive skin impressions were associated with one of the most complete Triceratops specimens ever found, a Wyoming individual known as 'Lane'. This specimen, including its skin, is now on display in the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Without a full description it's a little difficult to give much in the way of specifics about the skin, but published photographs reveal a network of very large (I'm estimating 50-60 mm wide based on the adjacent images) hexagonal tubercles dividing larger tubercles (perhaps c. 100 mm) with central, conical projections. These large scales are sometimes described being as 'nipple-like', for obvious reasons. Divisions between these tightly interlocked scales are marked, and we might have been able to distinguish individual scales on these animals from some distance away. The function of the larger tubercles with their prominences has been the source of much speculation in art - do these structures represent bosses and low spikes, or tubular supports for large, coarse filaments? I must admit to considering the latter unlikely as neither hair or scales in modern animals grow through scales, but instead around them. I'm happy to be wrong on this, though, and both interpretations could be easily tested by looking for apertures at the tip of each prominence. Hopefully these specimens will get a full write up soon, which might provide such details.

Detail of the large tubercles adorning the outside of Triceratops. Also borrowed from the Rapid City Journal.
Lane's skin impressions suggest that the scales of Triceratops were characteristically coarser, certainly a lot larger and perhaps more sculpted than those of most other dinosaurs. Their overall appearance is very different to the hadrosaur and theropod skin mentioned here, contrasts markedly from the scales known from otherceratopsians, and is rather unexpectedly most similar to the scales of sauropods. It's difficult not to intuitively equate Triceratops skin with that rhinos and armadillos: there's something almost armour-like about those heavy scales and low, projecting bosses. Perhaps this chimes with the unusually solid, reinforced cranial frill we find in this species - was Triceratops something of a horned dinosaur tank? I reckon there's a lot of fun to be had with depicting this animal as looking particularly tough and grizzled, with big skin creases and heavy folds - such a depiction can be seen at the top of this article. It's perhaps worth noting that the actual appearance of Triceratops is not a million miles off the Charles Knight's famous painting of 'Agathaumas' (probably = Triceratops) with its speculative heavy scaling.

Summary time

I hope what's becoming clear here is that we can obtain quite a lot of information from dinosaur skin impressions, and that they show scaly dinosaur species have their own characteristic integuments in the same way that filamentous ones do. There really doesn't seem to be a 'standard' type of dinosaur scale, and even closely related species show some significant variation between them. We have to conclude that those of us hoping to restore these animals accurately really need to pay close attention to these data, considering variation in tubercle size, texture and distribution. I particularly emphasise this for artists who draw every scale: if that's the route you're taking, make sure you're drawing them correctly! Moreover, the specimens outlined here are good reasons to be inventive when skin impressions are lacking. It seems most relatively extensive skin impressions of scaly dinosaurs reveal things like spines, keeled scales, armour-like structures, frilled projections and so on. Mesozoic dinosaur skin must've been as interesting as that of modern reptiles, and we might expect many species to have elaborate structures of some kind.

And that's it for 2015

OK folks, we're done here for this year, but there's plenty more to come in 2016. Weird archosauromorphs, stem mammals, some retropalaeoart and the publication of Recreating an Age of Reptileswill be covered early on. Huge thanks to everyone who's been reading and supporting this blog throughout 2015 - I hope you've enjoyed what I considered to be one of my best blogging years so far. All the best to you all for the festive period, and see you all in 2016!

References

  • Bonaparte, J. F., Novas, F. E., & Coria, R. A. (1990). Carnotaurus sastrei Bonaparte, the horned, lightly built carnosaur from the Middle Cretaceous of Patagonia. Contributions in Science. Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County, 416, 1-42.
  • Czerkas, S. A. (1992). Discovery of dermal spines reveals a new look for sauropod dinosaurs. Geology, 20(12), 1068-1070.
  • Davis, M. (2012). Census of dinosaur skin reveals lithology may not be the most important factor in increased preservation of hadrosaurid skin. Acta Palaeontologica Polonica, 59(3), 601-605.
  • Osborn, H. F. (1912). Integument of the iguanodont dinosaur Trachodon. Memoirs of the American Museum of Natural History v. 1

Deinosuchus: the Dalek-backed alligatoroid that (sometimes) made chew toys of dinosaurs

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Deinosuchus rugosus swallows the remains of a large Cretaceous sea turtle. Other archosaurs notice, decide to interrupt.
Any palaeontological geek worth their salt knows that several gigantic crocodyliform species - colloquially called 'supercrocs' - have appeared in the last 100 million years. They include the Moroccan, Cretaceous pholidosaurid Sarcosuchus imperator, several species of the South American Miocene caimanine Purusaurus, and the grandfather of them all, Deinosuchus, from the Late Cretaceous (Campanian) of North America. Deinosuchus is not the most 'extreme' of these giant crocodyliforms in terms of anatomy or size (but see below), but discovery of a partial skeleton in 1903 (and description six years later) was the first evidence for some croc-line archosaurs being very, very large. It is also perhaps the best publicly known giant crocodyliform, various reconstructions of its skull and skeleton appearing in museums all over the world, and being a semi-regular component of palaeoart.

Perhaps because Deinosuchus is 'only' a giant crocodylian and not a member of a completely extinct, weirdo lineage, coverage of its palaeobiology is often limited to factoids on its immense size and probable habits of eating dinosaurs. Our short attention span for this animal is not new: one of the key players in its discovery, John Bell Hatcher, lost interest in describing the first significant Deinosuchus remains once its crocodylian identity (rather than dinosaurian, as originally supposed) became apparent in 1903 (Schwimmer 2002). It took further persuasion and a number of years for palaeontologists to actually publish, name and describe this animal after Hatcher died in 1904 (Holland 1909). As we'll discover in this article, the scant attention paid to this animal is rather criminal: over the last century a detailed and fascinating picture of Deinosuchus has developed.

The Colbert and Bird (1954) reconstruction of Deinosuchus riograndensis, based on partial skull material collected from the late Campanian Aguja Formation, Texas. We now appreciate this reconstruction as being erroneous in a number of crucial ways, and it should not be considered representative of the appearance of this animal. Note the apertures in the snout tip alongside the actual nares. Images from Colbert and Bird (1954).
I'm going to start by sidestepping the confused history surrounding the discovery and naming of Deinosuchus material - interested parties can find a full summary in David Schwimmer's (2002) book Deinosuchus: King of the Crocodylians. It will suffice to state that fossils of this animal have been known since at least the mid-1800s and repeatedly hopped between species and genera during the last 150 years. Only one or two species are recognised nowadays. D. rugosus is the type species of the genus, first identified from two characteristically large, blunt teeth with wrinkled, thick enamel collected from the eastern US in the 1858 (examples below). Over time, these teeth were found to be linked with other Deinosuchus material including extremely thick, massive and deeply pitted osteoderms. These elements are highly characteristic even today, and permit even isolated teeth and osteoderms to be referred to this species (Schwimmer 2002). A possible second species is D. riograndensis, based on very large Deinosuchus fossils from Texas recovered in the 1940s (Colbert and Bird 1954). It's this riograndensis material that most of us think of when Deinosuchus is mentioned, it providing the basis of a famous, 2 m long and largely artistic Deinosuchus skull reconstruction unveiled at the AMNH in 1954 (above). The riograndensis skull was once thought characteristic because of unusual openings in the side of the snout tip (Colbert and Bird 1954), but these are now thought to be damage caused during preparation (Schwimmer 2002). As more and better Deinosuchus remains have been recovered in recent decades, some have argued riograndensis and rugosus are one and the same animal, the latter holding nomenclatural priority. Full agreement on this does not seem apparent from current literature, but on-going work on relatively complete Deinosuchus material will help clarify the taxonomy of this animal in future.

Deinosuchus is recognisable from its teeth alone. These specimens are from the posterior end of the jaws, and show the wrinkled enamel typical of the genus. Note the heavily worn and broken the tips. From Schwimmer (2010).
We now appreciate that Deinosuchus is one of the oldest members of Crocodylia, the crown group crocodile-line archosaurs. Features of its skull and jaws indicate it was specifically a member of Alligatoroidea, the lineage of Crocodylia represented today by alligators and caimen. It's not uncommon to see Deinosuchus referred to as a 'giant alligator', but this is not really accurate and I recommend avoiding such terminology, even for lay audiences. Alligators and Alligatoridae are a distinctive group of alligatoroids with particular habits and anatomy, and they are no more closely related to Deinosuchus than caimen. It must also be stressed that neither of our modern alligatoroid clades are especially closely related to Deinosuchus. I figure most people will intuitively grasp the rough meaning of 'giant alligatoroid', and suggest this term is used in preference of 'alligator' in outreach media about this animal.

The Deinosuchus fossil record is something of a mixed bag. There are hundreds of fossils of it, but most of them are isolated postcranial bones, broken bits of skull and, especially, those massive teeth and osteoderms. The state of many Deinosuchus fossils can be ascribed to its remains being reworked by storms after their initial burial. Some partial skeletons and more complete skulls escaped this treatment but are not yet described in detail. A silver lining to not having much in the way of complete material is that isolated Deinosuchus bones are distinctive enough to map its range across Campanian North America. Many of us might think of Deinosuchus as a Texan animal, but it actually enjoyed a wide distribution, and being most abundant in the southeastern United States. A clear palaeobiogeographical pattern can be gleaned from Deinosuchus fossils, a divide separating occurrences in Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, Texas, and Northern Mexico from remains on the eastern side of the United States - Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina, and New Jersey (Titus et al. 2008). This east-west distribution is no fluke of preservation but reflection of Deinosuchus populations being separated by the Western Interior Seaway, the continental sea which divided North America during the Cretaceous. Although apparently not a fully marine creature, it is thought Deinosuchus lived in the coastal waters and estuaries of this seaway as, to date, its fossils have not occurred in fully freshwater or terrestrial deposits. Further evidence of its preference for coastal waters is the recovery of more complete and associated remains from wholly marine deposits.

A modern depiction of the Deinosuchus rugosus skull and mandible. From Schwimmer (2002).
Our incomplete knowledge of Deinosuchus anatomy means we can only form a partial picture of what it looked like in life. We can say, however, that the famous 'Colbert and Bird'riograndensis skull sculpture from the 1950s is erroneous in several regards. Manufactured as a display for the American Museum of Natural History (and then reproduced for museums around the world), the Colbert and Bird skull is too large, the snout too narrow, the tooth morphology inexact and, as noted above, the openings in the snout tip are likely erroneous (Schwimmer 2002). This is not a dig at AMNH artists course: they did the best they had with material available to them, and it's only with the discovery of better fossils that we can now spot errors. Perhaps unfortunately, museums continue to display this reconstruction and artists continue to use it as a reference. A modern picture of Deinosuchus is rather different: a broad- and deep-snouted crocodylian with a skull known to be at least 1.3 m in length, and perhaps a little longer if very fragmentary remains are being correctly interpreted (Schwimmer 2002). Most of its cranial features are typically crocodylian, including the presence of huge spaces for jaw muscle attachment, development of a secondary palate and dorsally situated orbits and nares. Befittingly for such an enormous animal, the teeth are huge and consistently robust along the jaw, those at the front being conical and pointed, and those at the back being increasingly stunted and shortened. The toothrow is very long in stretching from the jaw tip to just behind the eye. All teeth have the distinctively thickened, wrinkled enamel mentioned above. Unlike modern alligatoroids, a notch in the side of the upper jaw acts as a receptacle for the fourth tooth of the lower jaw and presumably rendering it visible even when the jaw was closed. This is the 'primitive' condition for crocodylians, and means that although Deinosuchus is an alligatoroid, it likely had a crocodile's smile.

Less can be said about the body and limbs of Deinosuchus. Schwimmer (2002) reports that partial skeletons hint at a general form and proportion not unlike a modern alligator. However, some authors have noted discrepancies in scaling of Deinosuchus limb bones which might indicate reduced limbs in at least the largest specimens (Farlow et al. 2005, see below). One thing we can be sure of is that the body of Deinosuchus was covered in those aforementioned large, thickened osteoderms (below). The exact arrangement of these elements remains unknown, but we can predict that at least four rows of osteoderms extended along the body of Deinosuchus because of its affinities to modern crocodylians. These osteoderms become disproportionately massive and robust with growth, so that those of the largest individuals are distinctively chunky and have lost some definition of a keel found in smaller examples. Artists should take note of this: the dorsum of a big Deinosuchus would have looked more like a gnarly Dalek chassis than the back of any modern crocodylian. As is typical for crocodyliforms, these dermal bones might have reinforced the trunk skeleton as well as providing armour plating, forming a network of muscle, ligaments and bone which bound the torso together (Salisbury and Frey 2000). It is speculated that the presence of very large, robust osteoderms in the biggest Deinosuchus indicates the presence of a torso strong enough for terrestrial locomotion (Schwimmer 2002).


The huge, deeply pitted and bulbous scutes which characterise Deinosuchus, as illustrated by Holland (1909). This image is a composite of two scutes from Holland's work, put together by FanCollector for Wikipedia. Both show cervical osteoderms, the left being a particularly big one
The maximum size of Deinosuchus is the source of much fascination and discussion. The largest estimates based on reliably measured remains suggest body lengths of around 12 m (Schwimmer 2002), but - as usual with giant fossil animals - there are a number of factors and caveats worth considering here. The scant nature of Deinosuchus fossils dictates that we must extrapolate the size of large Deinosuchus from much smaller, better known individuals and modern crocodylians. The 12 m figure stems from scaling the largest Deinosuchus vertebrae to total body length estimates of smaller individuals (Schwimmer 2002). Skulls and mandible lengths, when compared to a dataset of modern alligator proportions, indicate the largest animals achieved 10 m in length (Schwimmer 2002; Farlow et al. 2005). Another approach, using femoral measurements, results in a maximum body length estimate of 6-8 m, this being estimated from big femora typically thought to indicate 10 m+ animals. The explanation for these differences will be familiar to anyone who's estimated the size of a big, extinct animal: uncertainty about the proportions of the animal in question, the need to extrapolate well beyond the size boundaries of modern analogues, and the lack of associated remains of the biggest individuals. Most workers seem happy with a 10 m length estimate for a big Deinosuchus, those lower estimates based on femoral size being explained as possible evidence of reduced limb proportions in the biggest Deinosuchus individuals (Farlow et al. 2005). As usual, we await the discovery of more complete and informative remains to tell us the full story here. It should be stressed that similar caveats apply to size estimates of other 'supercrocs': despite the media hype associated with some discoveries, it's quite difficult to know which crocodyliform species was largest based on our current material.

Regardless of what the actual maximum size of Deinosuchus was, we have good reason to think that many individuals were not true giants. No specimens indicative of 10 m body length have been found among the many hundreds of Deinosuchus remains from the eastern side of the US, it being instead thought that eastern Deinosuchus didn't grow longer than 8 m. That's still pretty big of course, but not too far off crocodylians that we're familiar with today (the biggest saltwater and Orinoco crocodiles on record are a little over 6.5 m - Grigg and Krishner 2015). The true giants only occur in the west, and are much rarer fossils than their eastern counterparts. These fossils are also slightly younger than the eastern specimens, perhaps indicating changes across time and geography were responsible for Deinosuchus becoming exceptionally large. Research into the growth rates of Deinosuchus indicate that there might be nothing unusual about it's growth trajectory despite its size. It seems to have grown with a similar strategy to other crocodylians - relatively fast at first, and progressively slower over time - but simply stretched out the growth duration to many decades (Erickson and Brochu 1999). Growth rings in osteoderms indicate that the largest animals were about around 50 years old (below).

Growth rates in living and extinct crocodylians (a) and growth rings in a Deinosuchus osteoderm (b). Note how the Deinosuchus growth trajectory is essentially a scaled up version of its smaller relatives. From Erickson and Brochu (1999).
For many, the main discussion to be had about Deinosuchus is the impact it had on local dinosaur populations: was this animal a dinosaur predator? Attempts to answer this question stem from two sources: biomechanics and fossil evidence of ancient faunal interactions. The first, biomechanics, includes a recent study of 'death rolling' (the crocodylian habit of rotating around the long axis of the body while gripping prey with their jaws, literally twisting it apart) and whether Deinosuchus could use this strategy to dismember large prey (Blanco et al. 2015). Snout strength can be correlated quite accurately to death rolling capabilities in modern crocodylians (Blanco et al. 2015) and, seeing as this can be inferred from upper jaw skeletons alone, we can obtain some insight into the death rolling capabilities of extinct crocodyliforms. Perhaps surprisingly, estimates of Deinosuchus jaw strength were approximately one third of the strength required for this behaviour (Blanco et al. 2015). Scaling factors have been used to explain this unexpected result and, despite the outcome of their experiments, Blanco et al. suggest that death rolling was possible in Deinosuchus. I must admit to thinking additional experimentation is needed to quantify those scaling factors before considering this matter closed. Moreover, in checking the Blanco et al. data for this article I noted that their study modelled the Deinosuchus skull as 1.8 m long, a figure noted as speculative by Schwimmer (2002) and almost 40% longer than the largest measured skull length reported by the same author (1.31 m). A 40% shorter skull would be less prone to the scaling effects outlined by Blanco et al. and may result in a jaw strength more suited to death rolling - it would be great to see this checked out in future.

Partial theropod hindlimb bone (tibia or metatarsal) post a one-on-one session with Deinosuchus jaws. This bone is meant to be subrounded in cross section. From Schwimmer (2010).
More positive and definitive answer about Deinosuchus dinosaur predation stems from fossil evidence. It seems that, yes, Deinosuchus did dine on dinosaurs, but not exclusively or maybe even often (Schwimmer 2010). A handful of Campanian dinosaur bones - including a theropod hindlimb element from Georgia (above) and hadrosaur vertebrae from Texas - possess bitemarks characteristic of crocodylians, albeit on a scale unseen in the modern day (Schwimmer 2002, 2010). The theropod bone can only be described as exceptionally chewed: numerous, overlapping circular potmarks show where the bone was repeatedly bitten and crushed by a very powerfully jawed animal. So pulverized is this bone that its once subrounded cross section has become quadrangular - Schwimmer (2002) summarises the state of this specimen as 'resembling a dog's worn chew toy' (p. 186). The crocodylian signature, bite mark size and provenance of both specimens point to Deinosuchus as a possible perpetrator, and evidence that it did eat dinosaurs on occasion. Of course, it cannot be easily established whether these animals were killed by Deinosuchus or merely scavenged by them - some reasoning for the former is discussed by Schwimmer (2010).

Deinosuchus bite marks in fragments of a turtle (Chedighaii barberi) plastron. The tooth marks are about 4-5 times larger than those made by 4 m long nile crocodiles. From Schwimmer (2010).

There are reasons to think dinosaur meat was not a mainstay of Deinosuchus diet, however. Whereas a few dinosaur bones have been linked to the jaws of this crocodylian, more than a dozen Campanian sea turtle specimens have been found with bite marks made by a giant crocodylian (Schwimmer 2010). A diet of turtles is not surprising when we consider that the skull and dentition of Deinosuchus is more adapted to crushing bone than piercing skin and flesh (Schwimmer 2002): those robust posterior teeth are especially reminiscent of teeth in modern, turtle-eating crocodylians. Many Deinosuchus teeth are considerably worn and broken too, a likely consequence of being smashed into hard, bony prey rather than soft, spongy dinosaur limbs. Healed turtle shells suggest that these animals were predated by Deinosuchus rather than just scavenged, and raking bites across some specimens may record less fortunate turtles being juggled about Deinosuchus jaws when being eaten (Schwimmer 2010). The coastal and estuarine environmental bias of Deinosuchus fossils is consistent with it being a serial turtle predator, this being ideal habitat to find sea-going prey. Curiously, other marine inhabitants of the Western Interior Seaway have yet to be associated with Deinosuchus bite marks: perhaps it really did have a preference for turtles, or perhaps other skeletons were simply pulverised beyond recognition by those massive jaws. Either way, our discussion of this animal's feeding habits would not be complete without mentioning the numerous, possible Deinosuchus coprolites which have recently been identified (Harrell and Schwimmer 2010). Sadly, these do not reveal much about diet or digestive anatomy, other than the obvious fact that Deinosuchus poop was on average a lot larger than that produced by other crocs. Several anomalous features of these coprolites have led some authors (e.g. Hunt and Lucas 2010) to be sceptical of their organic origins however, their alternative being that they are simply calcareous nodules.

The foraging habits of Deinosuchus brings us to new perspectives on where it fits into Mesozoic ecology. New evidence is eroding the uniqueness of Deinosuchus in Campanian North America, it no longer being the only very large or even giant crocodyliform species in some localities. These new finds include a currently poorly known, but obviously giant neosuchian from the Williams Fork Formation of Colorado (Foster and Hunt-Foster 2015) and a more completely known, 7 m long, undescribed neosuchian from Woodbine, Texas (Main 2012). The latter is currently being worked on, and early indications are that it might represent a late surviving goniopholidid - a much older branch of the crocodyliform lineage. Whatever they turn out to be, the Woodbine and Williams Fork animals suggest that very large crocodyliforms might not have been unusual in Campanian North America. Their presence in a timeframe deficient of large theropods has not gone unnoticed, it being speculated that these large crocodyliforms may have been doing work normally reserved for big predatory dinosaurs (e.g. Schwimmer 2002). Similar proposals have been made about other large bodied Late Cretaceous carnivores taking over typically theropodan roles (e.g. Witton and Naish 2015) - the notion of the Mesozoic as an all-dinosaur show is looking increasingly out of date.

As a closing thought, I find it interesting that we tend to portray Deinosuchus as something of a freak species, one of those rare forays of crocodylian evolution into gigantic size which never really seemed to last that long or lead anywhere. As might be apparent from this article, this view is somewhat misleading. Deinosuchus certainly represents an 'extreme' of crocodylian evolution, but it's at the end of a spectrum, not a weird outlier from the rest of the group. Much of what it did, how it did it, and what makes it a fascinating animal, is mirrored in its modern and fossil relatives. Contrary to some perspectives on this animal, the fact it represents an ancient member of a modern group does not make it tedious or dull. Quite the opposite is true: Deinosuchus reminds us that animals from Deep Time are part of a continuum with our own fauna, revealing the awesome things modern lineages have been capable of, the potential their anatomies have in the present, and what they might be up to in future. How anyone can find pondering an animal that gives such a raw perspective on evolution and adaptation boring or uninteresting is beyond me.

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References

    • Blanco, R. E., Jones, W. W., & Villamil, J. (2015). The ‘death roll’of giant fossil crocodyliforms (Crocodylomorpha: Neosuchia): allometric and skull strength analysis. Historical Biology, 27(5), 514-524.
    • Colbert, E. H., Bird, R. T., & Brown, B. (1954). A gigantic crocodile from the Upper Cretaceous beds of Texas. American Museum Novitates; no. 1688.
    • Erickson, G. M., & Brochu, C. A. (1999). How the ‘terror crocodile’ grew so big. Nature, 398, 205-206.
    • Farlow, J. O., Hurlburt, G. R., Elsey, R. M., Britton, A. R., & Langston Jr, W. (2005). Femoral dimensions and body size of Alligator mississippiensis: estimating the size of extinct mesoeucrocodylians. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 25(2), 354-369.
    • Foster, J. R., & Hunt-Foster, R. K. (2015). First report of a giant neosuchian (Crocodyliformes) in the Williams Fork Formation (Upper Cretaceous: Campanian) of Colorado. Cretaceous Research, 55, 66-73.
    • Grigg, G., & Kirshner, D. (2015). Biology and Evolution of Crocodylians. Csiro Publishing.
    • Harrell, S. D., & Schwimmer, D. R. (2010). Coprolites of Deinosuchus and other crocodylians from the Upper Cretaceous of western Georgia, USA. New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science, Bulletin, 51, 209-213.
    • Holland, W. J. (1909) Deinosuchus hatcheri, a new genus and species of crocodile from the Judith River beds of Montana. Annals of the Carnegie Museum, 6, 281–294.
    • Main, D. J. (2012). Crocodiles of the Texas Cretaceous; the Campanian of Big Bend to the Cenomanian of North Texas, a comparison of great size, feeding behaviour and paleoecology. Geological Society of America Abstracts with Programs, 44, 3.
    • Schwimmer, D. R. (2002). King of the crocodylians: the paleobiology of Deinosuchus. Indiana University Press.
    • Schwimmer, D. R. (2010). Bite marks of the giant crocodylian Deinosuchus on Late Cretaceous (Campanian) bones. New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science Bulletin, 51, 183-190.
    • Titus, A.L., Knell, M.J., Wiersma, J.P., Getty, M.A. (2008). First report of the hyper-giant Cretaceous crocodylian Deinosuchus from Utah. Geological Society of America Abstracts with Programs, 40, 58.
    • Witton, M. P. and Naish, D. (2015) Azhdarchid pterosaurs: water-trawling pelican mimics or "terrestrial stalkers"? Acta Palaeontologica Polonica 60, 651-660.

      Jaw gaping in Spinosaurus hinges on modern birds

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      A north African spinosaurine, with obvious nods to recent work suggesting some of these animals might've had short legs and a semi-aquatic lifestyle. The pterosaurs are azhdarchids, which are known to coexist with some African spinosaurines.
      Honestly, I don't intend to cover every new paper which comes out on Spinosaurus. This fourth blog post, covering the third successive paper on this animal since 2014, is not the latest instalment of a stealthily-implemented new blog feature (check out this, this and this for previous non-instalments). Rather, north African spinosaurs are simply 'in' right now, hard to miss on palaeontological social media and the topic of widespread conversation - the dinosaur equivalent of skinny jeans, adult colouring books or whatever ITV runs on a Saturday night nowadays.

      The latest paper on these animals is that of Christophe Hendrickx et al. (2016), a piece which provides another interpretation on Moroccan spinosaurine diversity based on isolated quadrate bones. These are elements from the back of the skull which, among other things, articulate with the lower jaw. I don't really want to go into the ins and outs of their primarily descriptive and systematic assessment as the paper is a) a bit of a beast and b) we've spoken a lot about spinosaurine taxonomy of late and I'm desiring fresh topics. It will suffice to summarise that Hendrickx et al. (2016) provide compelling evidence for at least two spinosaurines being present in the Moroccan Kem Kem Beds, one of which is Sigilmassasaurus brevicollis and the other is - in their interpretation - Spinosaurus aegyptiacus. These results are not exactly the same as those presented in the recent Evers et al. (2015) paper, as Hendrickx et al. shuffle and deal north African spinsosaurid fossils among named taxa in another unique way. However, it certainly adds further evidence against the concept of a single spinosaurine species ruling Late Cretaceous north Africa proposed by Ibrahim et al. (2014). And yes, for those interested in scientific responses to the famous quadrupedal Spinosaurus reconstruction publicised in 2014, Hendrickx et al. (2016) specifically comment on the likelihood of it being a chimera of animals from across time and space. There's lots more in the paper - spinosaur skull morphology, body size, ontogeny, loads of illustrations and it's 100% open access - interested parties should definitely check it out.

      The pelican-like foraging anatomy of Spinosaurus, as illustrated in Hendricks et al. (2016).
      Moving on to fresh, but still spinosaurine-filled waters, let's talk about something more fun - functional morphology that is*! One of the neater parts of the Hendrickx et al. analysis is that they pay a lot of attention to the jaw articulation of spinosaurines, providing detailed descriptions of how it may have influenced jaw operation and prey capture (above). Some readers may be aware that spinosaurids have 'helical' or 'asymmetric' jaw articulations, in which the quadrate condyles force the jaw somewhat outwards as it opens. Hendrickx et al. quantify this, noting that the lateral displacement is somewhere in the region of 20% of the quadrate width when the jaw is opened 45°. This equates to approximately 20 mm of motion on each side of the jaw in a c. 1 m long skull. As a rule, non-avian theropods do not have these helical joints, although they do occur in some pterodactyloid pterosaurs and, perhaps more famously, modern pelicans. Hendrickx et al. (2016) also note that the anterior connection between spinosaurid mandibular rami - the mandibular symphysis - has a fibrous texture indicative of being somewhat loose and flexible, enhancing the pelecanid comparisons further.

      *It's OK, my shame about that pun is worse than any punishment you could deliver.

      In both the paper and news outlets (example), these perceived similarities between spinosaurid and pelican jaws are being stated as evidence of spinosaurs feeding in a pelican-like fashion, splaying their jaws to enhance food capture and swallow larger prey. Regular readers may recall that Darren Naish and I published research on similar claims for pterosaurs in 2013 (although the paper was not 'officially' published until last year - Witton and Naish 2015), countering suggestions that some pterosaurs fed like pelicans because of their helical quadrate articulations (Averianov 2013). This background made me surprised that another group of fossil animals was being labelled as pelican-like, as much of our discussion on pterosaurs is applicable to non-avian theropods and we're even cited in the Hendrickx et al. paper! I thought it might be of interest to explain some of my reservations about this idea here**.

      **I want to note that I feel a bit awkward writing this commentary in light of recent controversies on palaeontology blogs, so-called 'Post Publication Peer Review' and so on. I hope that it's clear that this article, as with all the writings here, are meant as constructive, well-meaning expressions of opinion from someone with an interest in these topics and experience in a similar research field. My disagreement with the functional analogy proposed by Hendrickx et al. and their PR work is a polite one, and doesn't mean I disrespect them as scientists or want to undermine the significance of their paper.

      We should begin by familiarising ourselves with the jaws of some relevant modern birds. Quite a bit of research has been done into pelican jaw anatomy (Schreiber et al. 1975; Meyers and Myers 2005; Field et al. 2011), an unsurprising fact given how awesomely and specifically adapted their jaws are to their unusual foraging method. Researchers have identified a number of adaptations critical to pelicans being able to splay their jaws so widely. They include reduced mineralisation at the middle part of the lower jaw to make a long 'bending zone', and even further reduction of mineral content (down to 20%) adjacent to the mandibular symphysis. This makes a 'hinge' for the mandibular rami to swing outwards on despite the fact there is no articulation or joint in the jaw at this point. The mandibular symphyses are so short that virtually all the jaw length is permitted to splay. At the other end of the jaw, the tongue is similarly reduced so as not to get in the way when the mouth is opened. The connection between the dentary bone (forming the jaw anterior) and the complex of bones of the posterior jaw is long, loosely connected and obliquely oriented so as to aid motion when the mandible spreads outwards. Even the horny tissues of the beak are specialised, being very thin (described as 'skin-like' by some authors) so as not to impede jaw flexion.

      Contrastingly, little mention is made of helical jaw joints when talking about pelican foraging strategies. Zusi (1993) mentions that jaw spreading at the joints may be important to this effect, but more recent literature states that the precise mechanic responsible for bowing pelican mandibles is not really understood (Meyers and Myers 2005). Three hypotheses are currently thought viable: forces and weight of water acting on the jaw (known to be only part of the solution, as pelicans can splay their jaws on land too), contraction of muscles in the gular pouch (pulling the chin backwards, pushing the jaw rami out) or twisting of the lower jaw by the pterygoideus jaw musculature (Meyers and Myers 2005 and references therein). I guess it's possible that lateral displacement of the jaws has some role too, but it's interesting that the pelican guys aren't championing it's role as essential to manibular bowing. It's always risky using negative evidence in this way, but it might be telling given how intensively studied pelican skulls are.

      Mandibular bowing in modern birds, as illustrated by Zusi (1993). a, herring gull (Larus argentatus) with relaxed and bowed mandibles; b, common potoo (Nyctibius griseus) skull and mandible (arrows show zones of flexion; c, tawny frogmouth (Podargus strigoides), a potoo incapable of mandibular kinesis. Note contrasting morphology between the potoo mandibles - even as a fossil taxon, there would be no doubt that N. griseus was capable of mandibular flexion.
      Perhaps a factor in ornithologists not paying much attention to pelican jaw joints is that helical quadrate articulations are not unique to them. In addition to pelicans, pterosaurs and spinosaurids, numerous bird groups are equipped with asymmetric quadrate condyles. These including herons, shoebills, certain hummingbirds and seed-eating songbirds, potoos and others. In all these species, the effect is the same - lateral displacement of the posterior jaws when the mouth is opened. Because these animals have very different diets, foraging strategies and lifestyles, their convergence on a similar jaw anatomy reflects a basic functional requirement: apprehending or swallowing large food (Zusi 1993). However, not all these species bow their anterior mandible regions in a significant way. To perform this trick, many non-pelecanid birds have mandibles with hinged regions (above). Some species, like certain potoos, are remarkable in this regard, perhaps surpassing pelicans in their ability to expand and even twist their throats into wide basins. It is not only specialised taxa which have remarkable lower jaws: the likes of seagulls can also bow their mandibles to an impressive extent. In these birds, a combination of the pull of the pterygoideus muscle and osteological specialisations allow the jaws to bulge sideways and large food items to enter the throat. The message here seems to be that helical jaw joints might have nothing to do with pelican-like jaw bowing, whereas other features - the development of pronounced mandibular hinges and specialised musculature - might be.

      Modern birds give us a pretty good idea of what sort of features we're looking for in a pelican-like dinosaur. In doing so, as might already be obvious, they suggest major issues with the pelican-spinosaur analogy. Firstly, we need to acknowledge that helical jaw joints are not a special pelican feature. We could also call spinosaurid mandibular joints 'heron-like', 'potoo-like', or even 'hummingbird-like'. It seems more precise to suggest spinosaurid jaw joints are similar to those of several modern bird lineages and not over-emphasise anything to do with pelicans.


      Our mandibular bowing experiments with pterosaurs and pelicans illustrated. Even when stretching the pterosaur jaws beyond the limits of their jaw joints, their area increase was negligible compared to that of a lazy pelican. From Witton and Naish 2015.
      Secondly, given how ecologically variable modern birds with helical jaw joints are, and that there is no obvious correlation between asymmetric quadrate condyles and mandibular bowing, we need to treat them as part of a 'functional package' - a recipe of functional elements considered simultaneously to assess their overall effect on behaviour and lifestyle. The attempt here is to see the bigger picture of how such joints work with the rest of the jaw - do they function in a pelican-like fashion? It doesn't seem so. The amount of mandibular movement in spinosaurids is pretty negligible compared to what we see in modern birds. As noted above, quantification of of jaw motion by Hendrickx et al. suggests the lower jaws move only a tiny amount, each jaw splaying 20 mm from a skull approaching 1000 mm long. It's likely this motion would not even be noticeable in life. I'm reminded of the calculations Darren and I predicted for pterosaur jaw expansion (above) where we found pterosaur helical jaw joints boost jaw area, at most, by a few 10s of percent, but anterior jaw bowing in pelicans increases area by hundreds of percent (Witton and Naish 2015). These calculations seem to agree with current research that bowing of the anterior mandible is the most important agent in having widely distending jaws. No spinosaurid jaw yet known has adaptations for anterior mandible motion akin to those of pelicans, or even other birds capable of mandibular bowing. Many readers will know that we can, and have, assessed the kinetic potential of fossil animal skulls, including those of fossil pelicans (Louchart et al. 2011). we should be able to detect bowing mandibles in non-avian dinosaurs and other fossil reptiles, should they occur.

      My points here might be countered by the observation that the mandibular symphyses of some spinosaurids are quite fibrous, perhaps indicating a loose and mobile connection between them (Hendrickx et al. 2016). This might be the case, but Hendrickx et al. also note that some spinosaurid symphyses are longer than those of other theropods, thus actually having a greater degree of anterior attachment between each lower jaw. Based on our understanding of modern bird jaws, surely this is the opposite of what we'd expect in an extinct pelican-analogue? Even if I'm wrong on that, a slightly spongy symphysis and helical jaw joints are several functional miles off the flexibility afforded by avian jaws - especially those with the most extreme adaptations for mandibular bowing, like pelicans.

      In all, then, I'm not convinced on the idea that spinosaurids were pelican-like in their foraging habits. Rather, the adaptations outlined by Hendrickx et al. suggest a somewhat bird-like ability to increase gape for swallowing slightly larger food than usual. In actuality, spinosaurid jaw functionality contrasts so markedly with that of pelicans that it might be misleading to tout pelicans as spinosaur analogues. After all, the spinosaurid ability to bulge their jaws slightly is not especially pronounced or even rare, whereas what pelicans do is really both those things: an extreme and marked adaptation, and almost unique in nature. I come back to a point I've made about other instances of 'extreme' modern animals being used as analogues for extinct ones: we need to be as thorough as possible in our functional assessments before pointing to highly specialised and extremely adapted modern species as suitable analogues for long dead taxa.

      Enjoyed this post? Support me on Pateon!

      The artwork and words you see here are supported by Patreon, the service which allows you to directly support artists and authors with monthly payments. You can support this blog from $1 a month and, in exchange, get access to bonus content and rewards - the more you pledge, you more bonuses you receive. For this post, I'll be explaining the rationale behind the spinosaurine depicted at the top of this post - it's not Spinosaurus 2014, not a 'classic' reconstruction - what's going on?

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      References

      • Averianov, A. O. (2013). Reconstruction of the neck of Azhdarcho lancicollis and lifestyle of azhdarchids (Pterosauria, Azhdarchidae). Paleontological Journal, 47(2), 203-209.
      • Field, D. J., Lin, S. C., Ben‐Zvi, M., Goldbogen, J. A., & Shadwick, R. E. (2011). Convergent evolution driven by similar feeding mechanics in balaenopterid whales and pelicans. The Anatomical Record, 294(8), 1273-1282.
      • Hendrickx, C., Mateus, O., & Buffetaut, E. (2016). Morphofunctional Analysis of the Quadrate of Spinosauridae (Dinosauria: Theropoda) and the Presence of Spinosaurus and a Second Spinosaurine Taxon in the Cenomanian of North Africa. PloS one, 11(1), e0144695.
      • Ibrahim, N., Sereno, P. C., Dal Sasso, C., Maganuco, S., Fabbri, M., Martill, D. M., Zouhri, S. Myhrvold, N. & Iurino, D. A. (2014). Semiaquatic adaptations in a giant predatory dinosaur. Science, 1258750.
      • Louchart, A., Tourment, N., & Carrier, J. (2011). The earliest known pelican reveals 30 million years of evolutionary stasis in beak morphology. Journal of Ornithology, 152(1), 15-20.
      • Meyers, R. A., & Myers, R. P. (2005). Mandibular bowing and mineralization in brown pelicans. The Condor, 107(2), 445-449.
      • Schreiber, R. W., Woolfenden, G. E. & Curtsinger, W. E. (1975). Prey capture by the Brown Pelican. The Auk, 92(4), 649-654.
      • Witton, M. P. and Naish, D. (2015) Azhdarchid pterosaurs: water-trawling pelican mimics or "terrestrial stalkers"? Acta Palaeontologica Polonica 60, 651-660.
      • Zusi, R. L. (1993). Patterns of diversity in the avian skull. The skull, 2, 391-437.

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