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Prints, custom palaeoart, and antisocial Triceratops

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Hey now - look at this: there's a way to buy high-quality prints of my artwork, and it's dead simple. Drop me an email at wittonprints@gmail.com with your requirements, pay off the invoice, and wait for your prints to arrive - hopefully within a week or so of order confirmation. Prices, sizes and all are discussed over here.

To celebrate this occasion, I'm also offering a limited number of über-cheap palaeoart commissions for private clients:


Yep - your own palaeoartwork, a print and delivery for just £100, which is a stupidly cheap price for original artwork. Full details (including a few important conditions) are here. As you may expect, I can't sustain working at that price for long. For that reason, there's only five of these deals being offered, and at time of writing, three of these deals have been taken. If you want in, don't delay. Don't despair if you miss this deal but would still like your own commission: drop me a line and we might be able to work something out.

Finally, because things have been a bit quiet about here for the last month or so, here's something to fill the void: a monochrome bristly Triceratops horridus, the dromaeosaur Acheroraptor temertyorum, and an interaction inspired by the wise, yellow philosophy of The Simpsons.

"...and like people, some [animals] are just jerks."

Apologies for yet another short post. Coming soon (when I'm allowed to publish them): Mammaliaformes! Heaps of pterosaurs! Deinonychus! Diminutive tyrannosaurines! And perhaps other subjects too!

Of tiny tyrants and Triassic big-heads: Tyrannosaurus rex and Garjainia madiba

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This week sees two new pictures of mine being 'released' in one way or another. Much as I'd like to go into lots of detail about each, that realistically isn't going to happen anytime soon. I'm going to attempt a sort of 'picture[s] of the day'-style writing. I'm sure I can do it... right?

Chidumebi Browne's resting Tyrannosaurus teens

Two young adult old male (left) and female Tyrannosaurus on a break from pillaging and destroying the Cretaceous, distracted by a group of ruffian moths. Concept and animal colouration by Chidumebi Browne. Prints are available.
First up is one of my '£100 palaeoart offers', painted for Chidumebi Browne. Featuring Tyrannosaurus, which needs no introduction as an dinosaur most famous for antisocial tendencies, Chidumebi wanted a more relaxed approach to tyrant dinosaur art. The concept called for Tyrannosaurus at the smaller end of their size scale, settling on individuals approximating the size of the 'Jane' specimen - about half the length of a fully-grown animal. There were also requests for contrasting blue and red colours on a male and female. I was happy to oblige, seeing as some degree of dimorphism is defensible for dinosaurs even at on half their full-grown size. Like mammals and non-avian reptiles, Mesozoic dinosaurs hit sexual maturity well before attaining fully ossified, completely grown skeletons and, for Tyrannosaurus, specimens in their early teens were probably reproductively active. In that sense, some features related to sexual behaviour might be expected in 'teenage' animals. Such individuals - better considered very young adults rather than large children - look rather different to their super-size contemporaries with their longer legs and more gracile build. Some of that is obscured here by the extensive feathering covering both animals (if you look very closely, you can just make out the arms of the sitting male), but their long legs at least show through.

The concept called for a a series of moths catching the attention of the male tyrant: initially one was ordered but, even at half-size, Tyrannosaurus is pretty big, so a few more were added to make them more conspicuous. My initial thought was to use butterflies rather than moths for the role of the lepidopterans, but I was surprised to learn that butterflies don't appear in the fossil record until well after the K/Pg event. Moths have a fair, if not especially extensive Mesozoic record, so they seemed a safer bet. They certainly add an air of tranquility to the scene not featured in a lot of theropod art: well done to Chidumebi for an excellent idea.

There'll be more output from the '£100 palaeoart offers' soon, although note that the offer is now full - over-full, in fact. There's some great ideas which I'm hoping to do justice to, so thanks to all who got their orders in - the offer sold out very quickly. If you didn't manage to get something to me on time, prints are still available - wittonprints@gmail.com is the address to contact for them.

Gower et al.'s Garjainia madiba: yes, the head is that big 

Gargainia madiba sp. nov., South Africa's newest erythrosuchid. From Gower et al. 2014.

Art number 2 is a life restoration of a new species of Early Triassic stem-archosaur, the erythrosuchid Garjainia madiba, described by David Gower and colleagues in this week's PLoS ONE. Unearthed in South Africa and named for Nelson Mandela ("Mr Mandela was known affectionately as 'Madiba'" - Gower et al. 2014), G. madiba has been making surprising ripples on Twitter and Facebook because of its rather enormous head. I say surprising because, for an erythroshucid, G. madiba is fairly typically proportioned - so far as anyone can tell, anyway. We don't have anything like a complete skeleton for G. madiba, although many aspects of its anatomy are represented in fragmentary specimens. It is currently distinguished from its relatives by fine anatomical details, perhaps the most notable being its large postorbital and jugal bosses of unknown function (best seen in the reconstructed anterior aspect, above). The discovery of more substantial G. madiba fossils may reveal more obvious distinction from other erythrosuchids, but, for the time being, the best we can do reconstruction-wise is show G. prima with a madiba upgrade package. Still, given how similar the two Garjainia species seem to be, this does not seem unreasonable.

Restoring Garjainia was a lot of fun because it forced a 'back to basics' approach to the artwork where David Gower, Richard Butler and I spent a lot of time discussing proportions, muscle distribution and posture. Many fossil animals - dinosaurs, pterosaurs, etc. - have been restored so often that the basic foundations of their anatomy are very well known, but this is not so for Garjainia and other erythrosuchids. A personal revelation to come from this process was evidence for enlarged areas of axial musculature on erythrosuchid skeletons, indicated by the rather tall neural spines of their necks and backs. This might give some insight into how their large heads were supported: a particularly well-developed, strong set of axial muscles. The posterior faces of their skulls are also wide and robust, providing space sufficient to anchor powerful neck muscles. But erythrosuchid anatomy was likely not held together only by brute strength: there's also some clever biological engineering at work. Like many archosauriforms with huge-looking heads, their skulls are more gracile and lightweight than they first appear, actually being fairly narrow for much of their length and riddled with fenestrae. We tried to show the former in our anterior aspect reconstruction: note how slender the snout of the animal is compared to the cheek region. The result is a head which is undeniably large, but probably much more manageable than it first seems.

For a lot more on Garjainia and other erythrosuchids, including the life restoration in situ, full descriptions of G. madiba anatomy and revisions to the diagnosis of the group, Gower et al. (2014) can be read here (hurrah for open access!). Thanks to David and Richard for bringing me on board, and congrats to them on the paper.

Coming soon: small, brown Mesozoic mammialiaforms! Yes, they are exciting. Really.

Reference

  • Gower, D.J., Hancox, P.J., Botha-Brink, J., Sennikov, A.G., & Butler, R.J. (2014) A New Species of Garjainia Ochev, 1958 (Diapsida: Archosauriformes: Erythrosuchidae) from the Early Triassic of South Africa. PLoS ONE 9(11): e111154. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0111154

You won't believe how interesting the Mesozoic mammaliaform Morganucodon watsoni actually is!

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Morganucodon watsoni forage for insects and spiders at night among Carboniferous limestones in early Mesozoic Wales. Empty, torn webs suggest they're having a good night, while forest fires burn in the background. Prints are available.
Vertebrate palaeontology textbooks always devote a good chunk of space to morganucodonts, a clade of Triassic-Jurassic Mammaliaformes representing some of the first wholly 'mammal-like' synapsids. Even folks largely uninterested in Mesozoic synapsids will be familiar with two morganucodonts - the Triassic, South African Megazostrodon and the widely-spread Triassic-Jurassic Laurasian genus Morganucodon - because they have become the quintessential 'Mesozoic mammal': small, shrew-like creatures which scurried around the feet of reptiles. Their lack of unusual proportions or adaptations for specialist lifestyles has probably played a part in Mesozoic mammaliaforms being considered a bit boring compared to their dinosaur contemporaries (sorry, mammal palaeontologists), a feat not helped by a deficit of new, particularly interesting artwork of them. Morganucodont representations in palaeoart are frequently quite 'diagrammatic' with 'generic' early Mesozoic backgrounds, animals in lateral or anterolateral aspect to show off their anatomy and daylight settings, despite frequent discussion about their possible/likely nocturnal habits.

Recently, I was asked to produce a reconstruction of Morganucodon watsoni for some friends (above). Being better versed in reptiles than mammals, I had to undertake a fair bit of research to bring myself up to speed on morganucodont anatomy and evolution. Turns out that reputation for being dull is entirely unwarranted: Morganucodon, its relatives, and the world they inhabited are really fascinating. Indeed, they should be bona fide fossil celebrities: Morganucodon and Megazostrodon were the first Mesozoic mammaliaforms known from anything like complete remains (albeit lots of fragments for the former, rather than a single complete specimen) instead of mere teeth and jaws. Their discovery in the mid-20th century can be seen as the start of a new era of understanding of Mesozoic mammaliaform life, and a forerunner of our now rapidly expanding knowledge of Mesozoic mammal diversity.

Initially, I wanted to write a long, detailed post about this painting and the animals it depicts, but that just won't be happening this side of 2015. But, dammit, Morganucodon is too cool to ignore completely or short-change with a 'picture of the day' post, so here's a quick-fire, from-the-hip summary of the research behind the work.

We'll start with the setting. Fossils of M. watsoni occur in British Triassic/lower Jurassic 'fissure fills' cropping out around Bristol and south Wales. These deposits represent ancient infills of caves carved into much older Carboniferous limestones, which are perhaps best known for yielding the sauropodomorph Thecodontosaurus. Fissure fill outcrops occur in multiple quarries across the southern UK and are frequently rich in fossil material, but the mammaliaforms are rare components of the fauna constrained to just a few localities. Dating the fissure fills is not easy because they contain few fossils useful for dating. Some quarries are reliably set at the Rhaetian, but they are probably not all of the same age: some may be as young as the earliest Jurassic. These include sites which contain M. watsoni fossils, which is why different texts give slightly different ages for this animal.

The upper Triassic/lower Jurassic of Europe would be an ideal holiday location for many. The desert landmass of Pangaea was in the process of breaking up, and Europe - including the southern UK - was in the process of being flooded by shallow seas. By the time M. watsoni appeared, Britain's only landmasses were small, low-lying, forested islands which, in terms of climate and general topography, would have resembled those of the Caribbean. Burned plant remains in the fissure fills indicate that the forested inlands of these islands burned on occasion, the remnants of forest fires being washed into coastal limestone caves by storms and floods. We can identify the fissure fill caves as coastal because they contain marine fossils along with terrestrial and freshwater species. It's on these limestones that I set this painting, a deliberate move to avoid another cycad-filled 'semi-arid' Triassic scene.

The island home of M. watsoni was ruled by reptiles - but not necessarily the ones you expect. Although dinosaurs were common, represented by both sauropodomorphs and theropods, the most abundant and diverse reptile group were sphenodonts. These guys deserve their own posts and paintings one day, their Mesozoic run being far more than just spreading tuatara clones across the world. Anyway, the decaying body of one of these - Planocephalosaurus - can be seen in the foreground of the painting above. As these indicate, the sphenodonts contemporary with M. watsoni weren't huge, but they still likely gave the resident mammaliaforms a hard time in competing for similar food resources. It's interesting to ponder how these animals carved up their respective ecologies to avoid direct competition with one another.

Scientists predict that, if Morganucodon were alive today, the sight of them would make grown women leap on their chairs, clutching the skirt tails in fear. 
What of Morganucodon itself? The skeleton of M. watsoni is small (about 10 cm nose to tail base) and extremely mammal-like, with differences limited to fine anatomical details. For instance, the composition of the Moranucodon jaw-joint isn't a simple as those of true mammals, the scapula is a little bit 'reptile-like', and (according to some sources, anyway), there may have been some degree of bowing to the fore- and hindlimbs when walking or standing. This doesn't necessarily indicate sprawling limbs, but they may not have been as neatly tucked under the body as those of other mammals. Because morganucodont skeletons are so similar to those of true mammals, it seems likely that many aspects of our basic soft-tissue anatomy were established by this point of synapsid evolution - ear pinnae, fur, loose skin and so on. Direct evidence for these are currently lacking in morganucodonts, but there is indirect evidence for fur from the relatively large Morganucodon brain. Although not as large as those of later mammals, Morganucodon endocasts were expanded beyond a typical 'reptilian' condition, and much of this reflects an enlarged neocortex. This part of the brain processes sensory information, and it may be that the covering mammaliaform bodies with pressure-sensitive hairs promoted this development. I find this observation quite interesting because other lineages with fuzzy bodies - bird-like dinosaurs and pterosaurs - have also developed expanded brains and enhanced abilities to process sensory information. These enlargements are often attributed to enhanced balance and coordination, but might they also be related to the developed of sensitive fuzzy hides, as is assumed for mammals?

Because art of Mesozoic mammals scurrying about at night is so rare, I wanted to capture this in my painting. The evidence for nocturnal activity in Mesozoic mammaliaforms is not as strong as you might think - it's largely based on the (questionable?) assumption that reptiles forced early mammals into nocturnal niches and the abundance of small nocturnal mammals in the modern day - but what the heck: it makes for a fun picture. It seems nocturnal mammals are often equipped with tremendous sets of whiskers, so I put similar features on my Morganucodon to help them find their way around, They may not be 'true' whiskers, in the sense of derived, mobile whiskers of modern mammals, but it doesn't seem unreasonable to imagine long, stiffened sensory hairs of some kind developing rapidly once fur was attained.

And... blast it, I'm out of time. So many other things to say, but they'll have to wait for another time. Coming soon: various theropods, festive pterosaurs, er... and probably other things too!

Overcooking Aucasaurus garridoi

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Aucasaurus made a note in its diary after this. Simply said: "Bugger". Prints are available.
This week I've been mostly rendering an abelisaurid, the theropod group best known for short-faced, short-armed taxa such as Carnotaurus, and famous for occupying many predatory niches in southern continents while tryannosaurids occupied the north. This 'common knowledge' is only mostly true however: abelisaurids did spread to at least Europe in the uppermost Cretaceous, and represent the largest predatory dinosaurs on the continent at that time. We need not overstate that significance however: uppermost Cretaceous Europe was a topsy-turvy world where all theropods were rather small, and top-dog predator duties were likely filled by terrestrially-stalking, quarter-tonne azhdarchidpterosaurs. It seems even evolution likes a good Htichcockian-twist every now and then.

In southern continents, abelisaurids remained medium-to-large sized predators. It was one of these, the Campanian, Patagonian species Aucasaurus garridoi that Felix Bridel asked me to paint as one of my £100 palaeoart commissions. Aucasaurus is one of the best known abelsisaurids, the holotype skeleton presenting an almost complete osteology of this c. 5 m long animal, and is considered a 'derived' member of the abelisaur clan. Its anatomy is almost as unusual as that of its close relative Carnotaurus. Like other abelisaurids, the general bauplan of Aucasaurus was that of a small head, tiny arms and relatively gracile torso strapped to a robust, probably powerfully muscled hindlimbs and tail. The peculiar anatomy of derived abelisaurid proximal tail vertebrae created huge spaces for hindlimb muscle-anchorage and likely betrays tremendous sprinting power (Persons and Currie 2011). Perhaps this explains the strange upper-body anatomy of abelisaurids: their gracile bodies and reduced extremities may represent pressures to keep weight down and speeds high. Long term readers may reconcile some components of this functional complex with another group of dinosaurs, the ornithischian clade Dryosauridae, which also married a powerful set of legs with a svelte upper body.

Felix wanted to incorporate the notion that Aucasaurus and similar species were probably fast runners into his commission, but not in a conventional way. While recent research has hinted that abelisaurids were likely fast, they were likely not as agile as other taxa. Bulging abelisaurid hindlimb muscles may have created a lot of power, but they also kept the tail base rather immobile (Persons and Currie 2011). In tight turns, the tail probably fairly ineffective for adjusting gravity centres or resisting turning inertia. Felix wanted his Aucasaurus image to reflect this, showing a predator which had overcooked its pursuit of a more nimble prey item and lost balance altogether. I was more than happy to oblige: watching animals for any length of time reveals they are just as clumsy as we are, but we seldom see palaeoart reflecting this. Perhaps the only exception is predators being thwacked by the weapons of their prey, which I guess sort of reflects a clumsiness, but it's not quite the same level of slapstick as an animal slipping over.

My brief working time with Felix was a lot of fun: it was clear from our first few emails that we had a similar idea in mind and the image came together quickly. I posted my progress of the image up on Twitter and, as you can see below, the basics of the image weren't altered from the start. Efforts were made to show the Aucasaurus mid-slip: deep enough into the fall for some immediate reaction to show, but early enough that the limbs and dust still have to settle. To my mind, the animal's right leg flew out from beneath it when attempting a tight left-turn, leaving it to gaze off-canvas at whatever prey item it was pursuing.


That final Tweet did indeed feature the finished version (also seen at top), which is now being printed and packaged for delivery (click here if you would like your own copy). As usual, there's a lot more to say, but I'll have to end there. Before I go, a few nods are needed as goes sources for the picture: Scott Hartman's Aucasaurus skeletal was an important reference, as was the Coria et al. (2002) description of the Aucasaurus holotype. The notion that abelisaurid arms were used as display structures (termed 'pom pom arms' by @Blackmudpuppy) isn't new: All Yesterdays (Conway et al. 2012) explored that first.

References


  • Conway, J., Kosemen, C. M., & Naish, D. (2012). All Yesterdays: Unique and Speculative Views of Dinosaurs and Other Prehistoric Animals. Irregular Books.
  • Coria, R. A., Chiappe, L. M., & Dingus, L. (2002). A new close relative of Carnotaurus sastrei Bonaparte 1985 (Theropoda: Abelisauridae) from the Late Cretaceous of Patagonia. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 22(2), 460-465.
  • Persons IV, W. S., & Currie, P. J. (2011). Dinosaur speed demon: the caudal musculature of Carnotaurus sastrei and implications for the evolution of South American abelisaurids. PloS one, 6(10), e25763.

Taking in the festive air with an azhdarchid pterosaur

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An azhdarchid pterosaur takes off in a festively-coloured woodland, because it's Christmas. Prints are available
I was recently thrilled to have the above image featured on the front cover of The Anatomical Record, its depiction of a freshly launched azhdarchid pterosaur tying in with the first paper of the issue. And yes, the colours are deliberately festive, because the Anatomical Record adopts a Christmas theme for its December issues, hence the deep reds and greens of my image. There's two stories I briefly want to tell about this: one about the paper it accompanies, and the other about the art itself.

The paper

My art accompanies the work of Nick Geist and his team on the respiratory mechanism of large pterodactyloid pterosaurs (Geist et al. 2014). Lung ventilation in pterosaurs is an interesting topic. The torso skeleton of many pterodactyloids is locked up pretty tightly thanks to their vertebrae fusing together, their scapulocoracoids being tightly braced between their sterna and backbones and a series of robust, mostly immobile ribs. How were their lungs or air sacs inflated within such a rigid skeleton? Because this configuration isn't a million miles from the torso skeletons of some birds, some authors (Claessens et al. 2009) have suggested that pterosaurs may have breathed in basically avian manner: muscles anchoring to small ribs set between the sternum and larger thoracic ribs move the sternum up and down, pumping air around the body in the process.

This has been accepted fairly widely for the last five years, but now Geist et al. (2014) have presented an alternative argument. They suggest that pterosaur sternal ribs are ill suited for anchoring such muscles because they are very slender - we might even call them fragile - and often entirely cartilaginous, the latter observation borne out by their poor representation in fossil record. Indeed, large portions of the pterosaur chest seem cartilaginous and rarely preserved - the bony sterna of many species (Dorygnathus and Scaphognathus spring to mind) are tiny, and cannot possibly have supported the flight musculature indicated by their powerful shoulders and forelimbs. There must have been large cartilage extensions to these in life. Moreover, in many respects pterosaur torso construction resembles those of crocodilians more than birds, such as the manner with which the thoracic ribs articulate with the vertebrae and the essentially vertical orientation of the ribs themselves. This configuration does not permit the rib rotation required to move the sternum in respiration, and actually adds further rigidity to the anterior pterosaur torso. A bird-like respiratory mechanic may be unlikely for pterosaurs then.

So how were pterosaurs breathing, then? Perhaps the only part of their bodies which wasn't locked up tight and permitted the expansion and contraction required for breathing was their bellies. Behind the sternum sits a suite mobile bones: the belly ribs (gastralia) and the prepubes, a pair of paddle-shaped bones articulated with the pelvis, along with a few 'floating' sternal ribs. Perhaps, like crocodiles, but unlike birds, pterosaurs used this region of their body to control the pressure in their lungs. Crocodiles use contraction of their abdominal muscles to move a large, body-spanning liver forward to compress their lungs, while relaxation of their abdominal wall then allows the liver to retract and the lungs to expand, bringing in their next breath. It seems this action accounts for about 65% of air moved in and out of their lungs, with the rest coming from costal - rib - movements. Given that it seems only pterosaur bellies were flexible enough to inflict substantial changes on body volume, it is not inconceivable to think they used a similar 'belly-pump' (or extracostal pump) as their principle means of controlling air flow into their lungs.

What does this mean for pterosaur lung structure overall? It's well known that pterosaur skeletons and bodies were pneumatised to the same extent, if not more, than avian dinosaurs, prompting suggestions that pterosaurs also had solid avian-like lungs and similar unidirectional flow-through pulmonary mechanics (Claessens et al. 2009). Do the observations of Geist et al. (2014) refute this? Well, not really, but they don't support them, either. As Geist et al. point out: we really don't know anything concrete about pterosaur lung structure, and it's actually pretty hard to tell anything about them from bones alone. A bird-like lung may have been present in pterosaurs and would certainly be consistent with extensive skeletal pneumaticity. However, we need to be careful about exclusively linking extensive pneumaticity with bird-like respiratory organs: flying fish, which of course have no lungs at all, also have pneumatised skeletons thanks to outgrowths of their swim bladders (Geist et al. 2014). Moreover, our uncertainty is not helped by a general lack of knowledge about reptile lungs. This year has seen several revelations about the lungs of extant reptiles being more complex, and sometimes more avian-like, than previously thought. We might need a better handle on reptile lung diversity, and the phylogenetic distribution of different lung structures within Sauropsida, before we start making inferences about the lungs of long extinct reptile lineages. In sum, while the avian-like pterosaur lung remains a viable hypothesis, it's not the only option on the table. We might be able to gain insights into how the body cavity of pterosaurs was manipulated to move air in and out, but their precise lung anatomy remains largely mysterious (Geist et al. 2014). There's a lot more we could say about this, but you'll have to track down the full paper for further details.

The cover image

Festivodactylus in situ.

There's a bit of a story behind the cover artwork for this paper too. It's hardly the stuff of novels but, given that 2014 has been another year in which palaeoart plagiarism and working practices have been a hot topic, it's nice to share a happier, positive story about a palaeoartwork for a change.

This cover has been a long time coming, with Nick asking me for potential cover art for the paper at the end of last year. I duly obliged by lending the flying Anhanguera from my book. Nothing much happened while the paper was crunched through the publication mill, until in November the cover art arrived. Looked like I was due for the December issue, which, as noted above, Anatomical Record always jazzes up with festive colours - green, red and white. This involved tweaking the colours of my original art to meet these, as well as some stretching and cropping to fit the AR cover format. Without going into details, I wasn't really happy with the results. Uh oh. Pessimist I am, I foresaw the worst. I stress that these expectations weren't because of previous experience of working with Nick or AR, but my experiences with other clients and agencies. Protesting about art use normally leads to Bad Things: unhappily forced compromises, loss of commissions, or having to fix 'problems' without pay. When writing back to Nick and AR with my concerns, I pretty much expected the whole cover project to fall apart. I pitched, without optimism, the idea of doing another image, for a fee, to replace the modified one. Despite linking to the 'State of the Palaeoart' article I helped pen this year to substantiate my request for payment, I was expecting the same old response: lack of money, thanks but no-thanks.

To my complete surprise, Nick, his colleagues and AR were on board with everything. The 'palaeoart situation' was new to them all, but I - we, the palaeoart community - had their sympathy. Within a day, AR had been able to put things on hold for a week while I drafted a new image to their specifications and size, Nick and his team rapidly found a generous payment for the work at short notice, and we all ended up with a product we were happy with.

I mention all this for two reasons. Firstly, Nick, his team and AR deserve accolade for being so refreshingly cool and respectful of palaeoartistry. Secondly, independent palaeoartistry can seem a most hopeless industry at times: we get ripped off by everyone from toy companies and movie makers to museums and publishers; our marketplace is mainly structured around exploitation of individuals, and sympathy or assistance from those in the position to change this can be hard to find. But, as this case shows, it's not all hopeless. Increasing awareness of the issues facing palaeoartistry does help rectify them, change can happen, and we have more supporters than we know. I'm optimistic that eventually we'll all have more stories like this one than the negative situations currently reported so frequently.

Best to you all for the festive period, see you all in 2015!

References


  • Claessens, L. P., O'Connor, P. M., & Unwin, D. M. (2009). Respiratory evolution facilitated the origin of pterosaur flight and aerial gigantism. PloS one, 4(2), e4497.
  • Geist, N. R., Hillenius, W. J., Frey, E., Jones, T. D., & Elgin, R. A. (2013). Breathing in a box: Constraints on lung ventilation in giant pterosaurs. The Anatomical Record, 297, 2233-2253.

Babified Allosaurus and prehistoric sphenodontians

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A curious juvenile Allosaurus is told to get off the lawn owned by a grumpy Opisthias. Prints are available. 
With Christmas 2014 fading into memory, I can start sharing pieces of artwork commissioned for presents by various clients without fear of spoiling any surprises. I have several of these to reveal, and the first of which is above, showing an alsatian-sized Allosaurus and a feisty Jurassic sphenodontian, Opisthias. The Allosaurus in this image is based on one of the smallest Allosaurus specimens known, the partial skeleton SDSM 30510. This specimen, described by John Foster and Daniel Chure in 2006. is notable for not only its small size but also its proportions: it seems that very young Allosaurus had relatively longer legs than their parents, which is interpreted as them being more sprightly and cursorial than larger Allosaurus individuals (Foster and Chure 2006). I tried to capture these proportions accurately in the image, not the least because it was commissioned as a Christmas present for John Foster, the chap who discovered and assessed the significance of the specimen (I hear from my commissioner, ReBecca Hunt-Foster (@paleochick), that it's got the seal of approval). It must be stressed, however, that much of the reconstruction is speculative because many details of tiny Allosaurus anatomy remain unknown. Thus, a lot of the anatomy here reflects 'babification' of larger Allosaurus specimens. 

Allosaurus is joined in this image by the small sphenodontian Opisthias rarus. As with many small Mesozoic herps, Opisthias is not well known and much of what you see here as goes appearance and anatomy is based on the modern tuatara. It would be nice to know what Mesozoic sphenodonts really looked like rather than just trotting out variants of the Sphenodon bauplan again and again. Until better fossils are known, I guess this remains the most sensible option, however, as tired as it is. At least have good skull material for Opisthias and, from this, we can see it wasn't a straight replicate of the Sphenodon condition: the snout is longer, the temporal region rather shorter, and the teeth are generally more bulbous without pronounced anterior fangs. I attempted to further differentiate my Opisthias from Sphenodon with a green and red colour scheme, although its behaviour - an open mouth 'push up' pose - is a classic sphenodon threat display, a nod to the aggressive nature of modern male tuataras.

As is becoming tradition around these parts, I tweeted some in-progress images of this painting.




Coming soon: Deinonychus! The pterosaur formally known as 'Phobetor'! Comic-style Carnotaurus!

Reference


  • Foster, J. R., & Chure, D. J. (2006). Hindlimb allometry in the Late Jurassic theropod dinosaur Allosaurus, with comments on its abundance and distribution. New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science Bulletin, 36, 119-122.

Pterosaur art you've never seen before! (sort of)

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Later this week I’m travelling to the Netherlands to give a talk on pterosaurs at the Museon, The Hague. I’ll be part of a series of public talks on Mesozoic reptile lifestyles celebrating the opening of the Museon's new Dino Jaws exhibition, and it should be a blast. I’ve revisited some of my older pterosaur paintings to add more detail and depth when featuring them in my talk, and thought I’d share the results here. Some of these images aren’t that old really, but, thanks to beefing up my painting rig before Christmas, I find some of my work from even a few months ago can look a lot nicer with just a few hours work. As usual, prints are available of all images shown below.

Arambourgiania: remaining huge in artwork since 2013. See this page for the original.
First up is a tweaked version of my 2013 Arambourgiania, a giraffe, and a standard wife-unit scale bar. There’s not much to say here – I just wanted to put more detail into the pterosaur so it looks better in a close-up panning presentation animation. At some point, hopefully soon, a version of this image featuring two azhdarchids will be published.

An azhdarchid in high-altitude, long distance flight. Original here.
Second, the flying azhdarchid which made a debut at TetZooCon last year. I felt the initial image was a bit flat, so this has more depth added to the background. The depicted animal is a ‘generic’ azhdarchid, although obviously similar to the smaller Quetzalcoatlus species. It’s shown flying rather high – many thousands of feet in the air – on a long-distance flight. Mike Habib and I have droned on about the awesome flight capability of giant azhdarchids for years, and we expect the range and flight speed of smaller azhdarchids – with, say, 5 m wingspans – to be relatively impressive too. They may not have been capable of booming around the planet with the same gusto as their giant cousins, but continent hopping was certainly not beyond them.

The anurognathid Anurognathus ammoni, brought to you by evolutionary processes which wanted Muppets to rule the skies. 
The third reworking shows a species at the other end of the pterosaur size spectrum, the diminutive Anurognathus ammoni. Some readers may recognise this painting from my book. Anurognathids haven’t been covered in much detail at this blog, but that will likely change soon when Mike Habib and I publish a new study on their functional morphology in the near future. This painting alludes to something which we attempt to quantify in that study – prey size. Anurognathids are frequently depicted as hawking relatively large insects like dragonflies, but – based on prey proportions in modern avian insect hawkers, and the delicate build of anurognathid skulls – much smaller insects were probably pursued instead. Catching aerial insects is already difficult enough, so why chase relatively rare, enormous and feisty prey when abundant small midges can be scooped out of the sky with relatively little effort? Because anurognathids aren't big beasts - wingspans of less than 0.5 m are common - their likely prey was probably best measured in millimetres, as shown by the Target Midge in this picture. Other features to note in this painting include the tufted wing tips and completely fuzzy face, both of which are known from fossils and, for the time being at least, unique to anurognathids. The ‘cryptic’ colouration and nocturnality are nods to recent work on these pterosaurs suggesting these pterosaurs were shy, well-hidden creatures which were primarily active at dawn and dusk. More on these neat pterosaurs as time – and manuscript progress – permits.

To finish – because I can’t not post this – here’s a poster for the superhero movie the world deserves, but not the one it needs right now. Image by Jon Davies (@SovanJedi on Twitter – you may recall his equally excellent lampooning of in-your-face dinosaur art from last year).

That logo needs a T-shirt. Image manipulation by Jon Davies.

Bonus pterosaur (anurognathid) art you've never seen before! (sort of)

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Anurognathus ammoni makes itself like a tree, but doesn't leave. Prints are available.
Last week I unceremoniously dumped several revamped pterosaur images on the blog after they were prepared for a talk on one of my favourite topics - pterosaur functional morphology and biomechanics. Turned out that I wasn't quite done tinkering with old images however, because another piece - above - was set for 11th hour reworking. It shows one of the subject taxa of my talk - an anurognathid pterosaur - hunched up and perched in a tree, its cryptic colouration helping it to blend in somewhat with the underlying branch. The original version can be found in my book, with this newer variant merely adding more detail, depth and a bit of background.

This depiction of anurognathid palaeobiology isn't merely idle speculation on my part. In 2007, pterosaurologist Chris Bennett described a famously spectacular, tiny specimen of Anurognathus from the Jurassic of Germany preserved with its limbs and wing fingers folded around its body. Chris noted that this posture is common in anurognathid fossils but largely unseen in other pterosaurs, and suggested it reflected a common in vivo limb configuration specific to this group. He further speculated that the purpose of this pose was to make the animals compact and inconspicuous, for which cryptic colouring would also be beneficial. There are obvious parallels to make here with insect-chasing birds like nightjars and potoos, which also rely on specific postures and colouration to blend into their surroundings. This is not merely to avoid detection by predators, but also gives an advantage for ambushing prey. Given that anurognathids are widely considered insect-chasers, the surprising difficulty associated with catching some insect prey and the explosive flight ability of these little pterosaurs (stay tuned!), Bennett's speculations about their appearance and habits fit neatly into current models of anurognathid palaeobiology, and can be considered a reasonable way to depict these animals in palaeoart.

Coming soon - hopefully - a host of theropods, more pterosaurs, and the most exciting dinosaur art of all... a solitary hadrosaur!

Reference


  • Bennett, S. C. (2007). A second specimen of the pterosaur Anurognathus ammoni. Paläontologische Zeitschrift, 81(4), 376-398.

Tyrannosaurus, Mesozoic bees, and bee-friendly palaeoart!

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The stem-birds and the bees - two juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex investigate a Cretaceous honey bee nest. Prints are available, and you'll be contributing to bee conservation if you buy one in February 2015. See below for details.
Here's something you don't see every day - a depiction of a beehive in the Mesozoic. Bees rarely make it into Mesozoic palaeoart, but genuine bees were certainly contemporaneous with non-avian dinosaurs. The oldest bees have been found in Early Cretaceous amber inclusions (Poinar and Danforth 2006) and their fossils show that many traits of modern bees - including those related to collecting pollen - were already present by this time. Indeed, one of the oldest known bees is preserved with bits of pollen stuck to its hair. Trace fossils also suggest that many modern bee behaviours - nest building, burrowing etc. - were also taking place in the Mesozoic (e.g. Genise et al. 2002).

Calibrating the Mesozoic diversification of bees is difficult because their fossils are exceedingly rare. However, the likelihood that early bees were pollinating early flowering plants means that their diversification is of interest to not only palaeoentomologists but also those trying to understand the establishment of modern ecosystems. The Mesozoic can seem like a time of weird and wonderful plants and animals, but this view is skewed by our interest in unusual Mesozoic megafauna. A lot of our modern biota and ecologies have their origins around these animals, so much so that time-travelling humans would probably find many Mesozoic settings quite familiar. It seems that Mesozoic bee diversity fits this idea, as studies of bee DNA suggests crown-group bees evolved in the Early Cretaceous and quickly diversified into groups we would recognise from the modern day (Cardinal and Danforth 2011, 2013). This radiation likely included the adoption of at least ancestral variants of complex social behaviour we associate with modern bees (Cardinal and Danforth 2011).

One of my favourite implications of this work is the suggestion that the Apini were present in the Late Cretaceous (Cardinal and Danforth 2011, 2013). Apini are better known as honey bees, and, assuming their ability to make and store honey in nests was ancestral to the entire group, we may have seen Late Cretaceous reptiles raiding their colonies like modern animal rob their nests today. I find concepts like this really 'ground' the behaviour of fossil animals - the idea that a theropod or small ornithopod might partake in sting-filled nest vandalism to obtain energy-filled honeycomb seems like a very real, likely concept, and far more grounded than the gladiator matches we often see associated with dinosaur foraging. I've tried to capture some of that reality in the image above, showing dog-sized juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex taking on a colony of increasingly angry honey bees. Getting past the bee defenses is not proving easy, and the smaller Tyrannosaurus is close to adopting a full-on duck-and-cover defensive response to his aggressors. Videos of bears failing nest raids often show them hunkering down and covering their faces with their paws - I thought it would be fun to have Tyrannosaurus try that with it's proportionally small arms.

Bee-friendly palaeoart. Yes, it's a thing now.

My sudden interest in Mesozoic bees was catalysed by a donation request for an auction at Cumberland House, Portsmouth's Natural History Museum. The auction is raising money for a new beehive at the museum and, rather than just printing off some old work, I thought it would be fun to produce something new and relevant to the event. I'll be providing a framed version of the above work as a lot for sale - check out the Cumberland House Natural History Museum Friends Facebook page for the latest on the auction.


The Cumberland House auction is not the only way to get a piece of palaeoart while helping bee-related causes - for the next month, any copy of this print I sell will directly help a leading UK bee charity. Yes, bees need charities now, being in trouble globally thanks to habitat loss, climate change and the wide use of insecticides (see, for instance, this, this, and this for a taster of this issue). Several national populations and species have gone extinct in recent years, and more are set to follow. This is not just a problem for the 'natural' world: we rely on bees to pollinate many of our crops. Food prices and availability are set to change for the worse as bee populations and diversity dwindle so, whether you consider conservation an issue or not, we need to do something about their decline. For this reason, all February 2015 sale proceeds of my Tyrannosaurus and bees print will be donated to the Bumblebee Conservation Trust, a UK charity devoted to restoring bee habitats, encouraging bee-friendly policies at local, national and European governmental level, and raising awareness of the bee conservation crisis. Prices for my prints start at £20 (+£5 shipping) - most of that will go straight to the bees, and you get a print out of the deal. Contact me at wittonprints@gmail.com if your want to know more.

References

  • Cardinal, S., & Danforth, B. N. (2011). The antiquity and evolutionary history of social behavior in bees. PLoS One, 6(6), e21086.
  • Cardinal, S., & Danforth, B. N. (2013). Bees diversified in the age of eudicots. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B: Biological Sciences, 280(1755), 20122686.
  • Genise, J. F., Sciutto, J. C., Laza, J. H., González, M. G., & Bellosi, E. S. (2002). Fossil bee nests, coleopteran pupal chambers and tuffaceous paleosols from the Late Cretaceous Laguna Palacios Formation, Central Patagonia (Argentina). Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology, 177(3), 215-235.
  • Poinar, G. O., & Danforth, B. N. (2006). A fossil bee from Early Cretaceous Burmese amber. Science, 314(5799), 614-614.

Controversial ceratopsids revisited: woolly Pachyrhinosaurus and scavenging Styracosaurus

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Spurned on by a print request, I've spent free time this week revising two images of ceratopsids which may be familiar to long-term readers: my woolly Pachyrhinosaurus perotorum and scavenging Styracosaurus albertensis. The former is now just over two years old, and the latter a whopping eight years old - wow, have I really been messing about with internet palaeoart for that long?

Maastrichtian Alaska was quite chilly, but woolly Pachyrhinosaurus perotorum doesn't care. See this post for the original image and exploration of the concept shown here. Prints are available.
Because I appreciate some folks are fond of my original paintings, I haven't deviated too far from the original compositions and instead just added more detail, tweaked colour values and tidied up some sketchy areas. I'm very conscious of not 'pulling a Lucas' on my old work. Most importantly, the science has been improved/corrected: the cranial morphology of Pachyrhinosaurus perotorum is now correct to that species (like a doofus, I based the morphology in the original image on a different Pachyrhinosaurus species) and the tyrannosaur in the scavenging scene is appropriately filamentous. Thanks to Darren Naish, Zachary Miller and Christian Kammerer for discussions of Styracosaurus horn shape.

Have these depictions have been supported or refuted by any new discoveries? As far as I'm aware, skin impressions still remain elusive for Pachyrhinosaurus, although new data has emerged on the facial integument of juveniles (Fiorillo and Tykoski 2013). The 2014 discovery of Kulinadromeus and its assortment of filament-like scales, true filaments and other integumentary oddities (Godefroit et al. 2014) might indirectly add credence to the idea of shaggy ceratopsids, however. Along with Psittacosaurus and Tianyulong, Kulindadromeus shows that the evolution of ornithischian integument was complex, that single animals can bear a suite of different integument types, and that the assumption of dinosaur skin being ancestrally scaly is uncertain. The weird scales in (unpublished) skin impressions of Triceratops are further evidence that 'one skin fits all' approaches to reconstructing these animals are likely flawed, and that even clades with relatively limited anatomical disparity - like ceratopsids - had diverse integuments. Thus, the idea that some members of Dinosauria may have looked very different to our traditional interpretations is being strengthened by genuine data, and shaggy arctic ceratopsids remain a fun extrapolation of that concept. For further discussion on these points, check out my discussion of version one of the woollysaur painting.

The Campanian centrosaurine Styracosaurus albertensis scavenges the remains of a tyrannosaurid. He was going for warpaint on his face, but he ended up at 'Tonto'. For fun, the original 2007 version can be seen here. Prints are available.
What of scavenging ceratopsids, as in the reworked 2007 image of a tyrannosaurid-eating Styracosaurus? Ceratopsid omnivory has yet to be explored in the technical literature and, to my knowledge, remains best represented by a short paragraph in Paul (1991). More recently, Mallon and Anderson (2013) provided reasoning for why ceratopsids were not predatory animals, although their discussion seems to consider 'carnivory' synonymous with 'predation': opportunistic scavenging or omnivory are not explored. This leaves most discussion of ceratopsid scavenging online, and several famousdenizens of the online palaeontological community seem to support it. Back in 2007 I wrote a long essay substantiating the idea. That essay is no longer online*, but the argument is pretty straightforward:

*After eight years, I figured it's time to archive my old Flickr stream. The bulk of the content there is not representative of modern science or a good representation of my work, so it's been taken offline. I won't pretend I'm not a bit sad to do so, but there's obviously reason for bringing internet searches to my best, most recent work, not images I created when first learning how to paint.

  1. As is well-known, a number of modern herbivores eat animal remains on occasion. This may reflect nutrient stress (thought to explain carrion use by hippos, which is not as common as 'common knowledge' might suggest) or else a method of supplementing a mineral-deficient diet (as in deer, cows, giraffes and a host of other hoofed mammals - Hutson et al. 2013). Remarkably, some cases of hippo carnivory involve the hippos killing animals first, and they will also scare other carnivores from kills to obtain carcass access (Dudley 1998). Of further interest is that entire herds of hippos will chew on carcasses when available - these are not the acts of rogue, aggressive or aberrant individuals (Dudley 1998). Note that studies on the carnivorous tendancies of generally herbivorous animals are in their infancy, and it may be that this behaviour is more common and opportunistic than we currently realise.
  2. Other species, such as pigs, ingest animal matter as part of their normal diets. Studies on some pigs suggest 28% of their diet is derived from animals, either being invertebrates or carrion (e.g. Thomson, and Challies 1988). There is no reason to think that large extinct animals were incapable of comparable omnivory, but we restrict most discussion of it to smaller dinosaurs and pterosaurs. We can predict that such animals should have jaws mostly adapted for herbivory (e.g. teeth suited to browsing and grazing, long 'cheek' toothrows, vertically displaced jaw joints etc.) but would also have some means to process animal remains (e.g. crushing teeth to break bones, caniform teeth or sharp beaks for ripping meat etc.).
  3. Ceratopsid jaws certainly belonged to primarily herbivorous species capable of chewing their food, but their approach to herbivory was unusual. Their teeth and jaws, unlike other herbivorous dinosaurs and mammals, were incapable of grinding plant matter. Instead, they sliced food into pieces, their teeth sliding vertically past one other like scissors. Ceratopsid beaks are also unusually deep and narrow compared to other dinosaurian herbivores, and recall the beaks of parrots in many respects. The beaks of these birds are famously powerful, enabling their owners to access a range of nuts, seeds and animal matter (e.g. Greene 1999). The diet of of ceratopsids has been questioned by palaeontologists because chopping plant matter is not common among modern herbivores. To the contrary, most food slicers are carnivores - meat is easier to chop and slice into easily digested chunks than it is to grind into a paste. One sensible suggestion is that ceratopsids ingested particularly fibrous, woody plant matter (see Mallon and Anderson 2013 and references therein). We might imagine them devastating Cretaceous shrubs, removing entire chunks of tree - leaves, branches and bark - with each bite, or overturning plants with their huge heads to access their roots and tubers. However, it is odd that their jaws aren't more convergent with those of other herbivores, as grinding mechanisms have developed so many times in multiple tetrapod lineage and might be considered optimal for breaking down plant matter. So, maybe ceratopsid jaws were used for more than simply eating plants, and their shearing teeth and hooked beaks are the traits of omnivory we mentioned above, equally capable of slicing plants and animal remains. Opening carcasses, snapping smaller bones and slicing meat was almost certainly possible with their jaws and beaks, and we might imagine ceratopids as Mesozoic variants of pigs: largely herbivorous species with opportunistic carnivorous tendencies, and certainly capable of competing with strict carnivores for carcass access. The possibility that they could occasionally kill other animals for food, as demonstrated by the aforementioned hippos, is not unreasonable.
Back in 2007 I mentioned a possible smoking gun for this idea - a rumoured Psittacosaurus specimen with bony gut content. Since then, it's become apparent that that specimen either doesn't exist, has disappeared or has otherwise been forgotten about - it's best to consider that an unsubstantiated rumour for now. Despite this, I still think the concept of ceratopsian omnivory has legs: maybe a technical paper on the topic would be worthwhile.

Bumblebee Conservation Trust charity prints: an update

In my last post I mentioned you can buy a print of my Tyrannosaurus vs. bees painting and donate money to the Bumblebee Conservation Trust. I'm happy to say £55 has been raised in the last week for this cause, and thanks to those who've bought in. It would be great to make even more money however: if you'd like to contribute, find out more here.

Of course, prints are available for all my other work too, including the ceratopsid pieces above. Contact me at wittonprints@gmail.com to order one, and check out this page for prices and other details.


References


  • Dudley, J. P. (1998). Reports of carnivory by the common hippo Hippopotamus amphibius: short communication. South African Journal of Wildlife Research, 28(2), 58-59.
  • Fiorillo, A. R., & Tykoski, R. S. (2013). An immature Pachyrhinosaurus perotorum (Dinosauria: Ceratopsidae) nasal reveals unexpected complexity of craniofacial ontogeny and integument in Pachyrhinosaurus. PloS one, 8(6), e65802.
  • Godefroit, P., Sinitsa, S. M., Dhouailly, D., Bolotsky, Y. L., Sizov, A. V., McNamara, M. E. & Spagna, P. (2014). A Jurassic ornithischian dinosaur from Siberia with both feathers and scales. Science, 345(6195), 451-455.
  • Greene, T. C. (1995). Aspects of the ecology of Antipodes Island Parakeet (Cyanoramphus unicolor) and Reischek's Parakeet (C. novaezelandiae hochstetten) on Antipodes Island, October-November 1995. Notornis 46: 301-31
  • Hutson, J. M., Burke, C. C., & Haynes, G. (2013). Osteophagia and bone modifications by giraffe and other large ungulates. Journal of Archaeological Science, 40(12), 4139-4149.
  • Mallon, J. C., & Anderson, J. S. (2014). The functional and palaeoecological implications of tooth morphology and wear for the megaherbivorous dinosaurs from the Dinosaur Park Formation (upper Campanian) of Alberta, Canada. PloS one, 9(6), e98605.
  • Paul, G.S. (1991). The many myths, some old, some new, of dinosaurology. Modern Geology, 16: 69-99
  • Thomson, C., & Challies, C. N. (1988). Diet of feral pigs in the podocarp-tawa forests of the Urewera Ranges. New Zealand journal of ecology, 11, 73-78.

Deinonychus, Parasaurolophus, Dreadnoughtus and Carnotaurus welcome in the MarkWitton.com print store

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Since launching a limited print buying service at the close of last year I've had enough interest to warrant investing more resources into print sales. The result is an online print store over at the new slightly revamped MarkWitton.com where you can buy prints at a range of sizes and prices with just a few mouse clicks. Payment goes through Paypal, and delivery should be within a week or so for UK customers, and 2-3 weeks for international orders. There's a catalogue of recent artworks to choose from, which I'll expand over time, but I'm also happy to take orders for artwork not hosted there yet. If you would like a print of an older, unhosted piece, let me know.

To celebrate the launch of the store, I thought it would be cool to show four of my favourite new pieces of art generated within the last few months. These all represent private commissions which I have permission to post and sell as prints. If you want your own copy, you know where to go...

Dreadnoughtus dwarfs Talenkauen, is happy

"Oh, you say you're a medium-sized dinosaur? Sorry, it's hard to hear you with my head all the way above the trees here." Experts predict Dreadnoughtus schrani was jerk it was to other, smaller species like the iguanodont Talenkauen santacruensis. Print.

First up is Chris Wummer's commission of giant, latest Cretaceous titanosaur Dreadnoughtusschrani, an animal which needs little introduction after the publicity of its discovery last year. Dreadnoughtus was publicised as the most massive terrestrial animal of all time at 59 tonnes, but regular readers of the palaeoblogosphere may know that sauropod guru Matt Wedel questioned this over at SVPOW! through rough volumetric estimates of mass and, later, when considering the restored Dreadnoughtus trunk as too long. Palaeoartist Greg Paul has also provided contrary comment on the 59 tonne estimates and restored proportions (although I'm not really sure what context that article is presented in - it looks like an unpublished MS). Estimating the mass of any extinct animal is difficult and especially so at the extreme sizes represented by giant titanosaurs, but there seems good reason to think the Dreadnoughtus holotype individual achieved a mass of 30-40 tonnes. That's still very big of course, but within fairly 'typical' ranges for giant titanosaurs.

There are two versions of the Dreadnoughtus image shown here. Chris wanted the picture to have personal relevance and so asked for his house to be included. That choice was inspired by his residence in Philadelphia, the city were Dreadnoughtus was studied and unveiled to the world. Switching between the version with familiar modern objects and a completely 'natural' scene reinforced how difficult it is to show absolute prehistoric animal size without a frame of reference: Dreadnoughtus looks a lot smaller when its head isn't clearing a rooftop. Two ornithopods - the 4 m long iguanodont Talenkauen santacrucensis - were added to this version to help stress the size of the sauropod. It's still difficult to appreciate a precise size of the sauropod in this image, but hopefully it at least looks very big, which might be the best we can hope for in images without obvious scale references.

Deinonychus pair in the swamps

Two Deinonychus antirrhopus either taking a moment to drink, or looking at something really interesting at the bottom of that pool. Print.

Next up is Patrick Murphy's pair of Deinonychus antirrhopus. The Early Cretaceous dromaeosaur Deinonychus has been restored so many times that it's difficult to come at it from a fresh angle. I thought one way to do that was to not show it on open plains, but in a backswamp. Deinonychus is known from two geological units, the Cloverly and Antlers formations, both of which represent sediments deposited by ancient, subtropical rivers and their floods. Some sediments in the Antlers Formation represent large (10 m wide or more) abandoned river channels, complete with evidence of soils, low velocity or still water, and ancient vegetation (Hobday et al. 1981). The depicted animals are meant to have recently eaten something - their muzzles are still read with blood - and popped down to their local swamp for a drink and some shade. I imagine that these guys are set to sit down and digest after this, waiting until they get hungry enough to chase prey again.

The arms of the foreground animal are pressed tight to the body in the manner proposed by palaeoartistic Queen of the maniraptorans, Emily Willoughby, rather than held half-folded as we're more used to seeing them. As Emily explains, there is good reason to think the 'arms out' postures we're used to is nonsensical - animals just don't carry themselves like that (including ourselves: our arms don't just hang limp - we fold, stow and hold them when they're not in use).

These guys were a lot of fun to paint: Deinonychus has an appealing character - a sort of mash up of a wolf and a raptorial bird - which is fun to try to capture. My thought is that Deinonychus should always look like an animal which we would admire and revere, but would purposely avoid close proximity with.

Parasaurolophus, alone with other dinosaurs

Parasaurolophus walkeri, wondering where his friends are. Print.
Delano DuGarm's Parasaurolophus walkeri brings us back to the Late Cretaceous, specifically the Campanian. Delano's brief was for a fairly minimalist scene, which I think matches one part of the 'Campanian story' quite well. By this time some of the fauna and flora we think of as epitomising the Mesozoic were already gone or showing clear evidence of decline, including ichthyosaurs, some dinosaurs, pterosaurs and ammonites. Although some taxa were doing fine in this interval, and even radiating, seeds of change were already being sown for Cretaceous biospheres. We have to wonder how long many 'classic' Mesozoic groups would have lasted even without the global catastrophes occurring at 66 million years ago: even without them, the post-Mesozoic world might have been quite different.

Delano's lone Parasaurolophus painting gave a good opportunity to hint at this changing world. The left of the painting features a few (speculative) wading birds and two bird flocks leaving the trees - these, of course, are the 'new dinosaurs' that will live on through the late Cretaceous troubles. The Parasaurolophus on the right looks a bit big and cumbersome by contrast, sort of like an old design which can't compete with new technologies. Aiding this comparison is the relative chunkiness of the Parasaurolophus skeleton: hadrosaurs are hardly a svelte bunch, but the bones of Parasaurolophus are especially big and robust, with expanded areas for muscle attachment. As far as I'm aware, the significance of this is unknown (but let me know otherwise in a comment below!).

Carnotaurus with a difference

Azhdarchids > theropods, as demonstrated by this lousy predation attempt by Carnotaurus sasteri. Print.

Finally, we're popping back to Maastrichtian South America for Chris Tait's Carnotaurus sasteri vs. azhdarchids image. An obvious artistic departure from the rest, this is an attempt to achieve a comic-book style in line with Chris' intention to give this to his son as a present. I've tampered with minimalist, comic-book stylesbefore and quite enjoy it. Comic-book palaeoart - especially Ricardo Delgado's Age of Reptiles graphic novels - has influenced my work since the age of nine because of the energy, character and personality infused into the animals. Of course, you have to try hard not to find character in animals like Carnotaurus which, with its strange proportions and anatomy, looks almost like work of comic book fiction already (must... resist comment... about fictional theropod design and Jurassic World...). Carnotaurus, like other abelisaurs, was adapted for speed more than manoeuvrability, and this attempt to grab a passing pterosaur snack is an example of how nimble, agile prey might easily evade one. The pterosaurs shown here are quite small, which might seem odd for very late Cretaceous azhdarchids - aren't the small pterosaurs meant to be gone by then? Fragments of pterosaur jaw from Late Cretaceous Hungary indicate that some azhdarchid species retained small absolute body sizes even when most of the group represented medium-giant species (Prondvai et al. 2014). The discovery of these smaller Late Cretaceous pterosaurs does not buck the overall trend of average pterosaur size increase throughout the Mesozoic of course, but it does show that there were some exceptions to this wider trend.

Yes yes yes... but how are the bees doing?


Regular readers will know that I'm donating all funds from February sales of one print to the Bumblebee Conservation Trust. The good news is that I'm now up to a donation of £130, and there's still eight days left to get your order in. I'm really happy to have sold enough of these to break £100 - huge thanks to everyone who's bought one - and exceeding £150 is my new goal. 

It's now easier than ever to buy a copy of the bee-charity print, so you can get yourself a copy and help our struggling wildlife with just a few mouse clicks. Prices start at £20 (+shipping), and I'm giving as much as I can from each sale to the trust. 

References

  • Hobday, D. K., Woodruff, CM, Jr., McBride, MW. (1981), Paleotopographic and structural controls on non-marine sedimentation of the Lower Cretaceous Antlers Formation and correlatives, north Texas and southeastern Oklahoma. Recent and ancient nonmarine depositional environments, 71-87.
  • Prondvai, E., Bodor, E. R., & Ősi, A. (2014). Does morphology reflect osteohistology-based ontogeny? A case study of Late Cretaceous pterosaur jaw symphyses from Hungary reveals hidden taxonomic diversity. Paleobiology, 40(2), 288-321.

How Ornithocheirus simus and other pterosaurs took to the air... from water?

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Aquatically-adapted ornithocheiroid Ornithocheirus simus takes off using aquatic quad launch, as hypothesised by Habib and Cunningham (2010). Prints of this painting - which might be the first illustration of this launch strategy - are available from my shop.

Many pterosaur lineages seem to have close ties with marine environments, as evidenced by biases in their fossil and taphonomic records and indications of frequent interactions with marine fish. It stands to reason that these animals would find themselves in water on occasion, and trackways made by swimming pterosaurs indicate they may have been quite at home in this medium. Recent studies by Dave Hone and Donald Henderson have cast doubt on the swimming ability of pterosaurs because their floating postures seem rather awkward, which they suggest might have impeded breathing while swimming (Hone and Henderson 2014). Their studies found that, rather than sitting atop the water with arcing necks like birds, front-heavy pterosaur bodies collapse the head and necks into the water, bringing the mouth and nostrils close to the water surface. Although initially sceptical of this idea, I must admit to at least agreeing that avian-like postures may be difficult for pterosaurs. Our expectation that they floated in a bird-like fashion - which I've illustrated several times (Witton 2013 and elsewhere) - is actually quite silly given their proportions and differences with bird morphology. Pterosaurs lack the well-muscled hindlimbs which depress the back end of bird bodies into water, as well as the flexible necks and small heads required to attain duck or gull like floating postures. Indeed, birds seem unique in their floating posture, whereas pterosaurs seem to have floated in a manner more typical of other animals. Does the proximity of their nostrils or mouths to the water surface impede their swimming ability? Maybe not, given that virtually all non-avian animals I can think of  - including aquatic species like otters, crocodylians, swimming rodents, etc. - float and swim with their nostrils close to the water. As long as they have enough control over their swimming ability to clear their nostrils for respiration, they were probably fine. I see no clear reason to think pterosaurs were less competent in water than other animals, and maintain the view that some - for functional reasons - probably needed to swim to obtain the pelagic prey they did/likely did consume (Witton 2013).

But what did pterosaurs do when they needed to leave the water? Could they fly from the water surface or did they have to seek land to take off from? Anyone who knows anything about current pterosaur research knows that the leading hypothesis on pterosaur takeoff is quadrupedal launching, where the hindlimbs mostly serve to provide forward momentum, and vertical heft was provided by the forelimbs (Habib 2008) - many species of bats including vampires molossids and some mystacinids use a similar mechanism. It's worth stressing that this idea is not only supported by anatomical characteristics and positive results from biomechanical studies, but also by the fact that the hindlimbs were too weak to launch sensibly-massed pterosaurs into the air. All studies favouring bipedal launch have had to circumvent this somehow, typically by under-estimating pterosaur masses by, probably, as much as 60%. This makes bipedal launch a real no-go, whereas quad-launch has, to my knowledge, has meet all tests and predictions. We typically discuss quad-launch in terrestrial contexts, but can it work on water?

Schematic of water-hopping quad-launch strategy, from Witton 2013. The floating posture in panel 1 might be incorrect, but the general thrust of the image is OK.

It turns out, probably yes. According to work by Habib and Cunningham (2010), a version of quad-launch works just fine in aquatic settings. It seems that many folks have difficulty imagining how this works, but it's really not too dissimilar to terrestrial quad-launching. As with any takeoff mechanism, the the trick to water-launching is a leap providing sufficient height and speed to facilitate wing use (flapping alone doesn't really get you anywhere, and is especially ineffective at larger sizes). In this respect, it is just like terrestrial launch. An added complication of water launch is escaping surface tension, the cohesive force operating at air-water interfaces. This is where differences between terrestrial and aquatic launch become apparent, because it seems most pterosaurs were incapable of overcoming surface tension from a 'standing' (er... stationary floating) start. Their half-submerged posture and the fluid nature of the medium they are pushing against likely prohibited generation of sufficient energy for a standing launch. The solution to this is a series of hops across the water surface (above), each one providing further water clearance and velocity than the last. These were achieved, as on land, by the combined efforts of both the legs and arms. The wings are not fully deployed at this point, although the arm motion is probably showing some similarities to a flight stroke. The early stage of this takeoff might  look a little like swimming with a particularly powerful butterfly-stroke, albeit one where the swimmer is emphasising vertical motion rather than horizontal. Eventually, the pterosaur is leaping across - not through - the water and is clear enough to push off fully from the water surface. For this final push, the wing is opened and flapping can start. It seems that some pterosaurs - principally ornithocheiroids - were very well adapted for these manoeuvres, showing the shoulder reinforcement, upper-arm strength and distal-limb adaptations you'd predict for water-hopping quad launchers (Habib and Cunningham 2010, Witton 2013).

Some especially powerful pterosaurs, however, probably didn't need to worry about water hops. Giant azhdarchids, which experts predict were not only fuelled by muscle, but raw awesomeness sucked out of the universe itself, were probably powerful enough to water launch without hopping (Habib and Cunningham 2010). Some also ducks have sufficient power to do this - check out the launches in this video for cracking, slow-mo examples (the second is best, at 20 seconds in. Hat tip to Mike Habib for the link).


Recently, palaeoblogosphere regular Mike Traynor commissioned me to paint pterosaur water quad-launch - I think for the first time (if anyone knows different, please let me know). The results, a 6 m wingspan Ornithocheirus simus at the apex of the launch cycle, are above and, for fun, shown in progress from my Twitter feed below. If you'd like to own a copy of this image, you can: point your internet mobile at this page.





We're not done with aquatically-adapted animals just yet. Coming soon: the surprising aquatic adaptations of our own Mesozoic relatives.

References

  • Habib, M. B. (2008). Comparative evidence for quadrupedal launch in pterosaurs. Zitteliana, B28, 159-166.
  • Habib, M., & Cunningham, J., (2010). Capacity for water launch in Anhanguera and
  • Quetzalcoatlus. Acta Geosci. Sin. 31, 24–25.
  • 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.
  • Witton, M. P. (2013). Pterosaurs: natural history, evolution, anatomy. Princeton University Press.

Torvosaurus tanneri and the progressiveness of Knight and Burian

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Mother Torvosaurus tanneri, reclining in Late Jurassic North America, wondering when her life became all about the kids. See the original version of this painting here, and check out my store to buy a print.

Regular readers will know that I've been overhauling some of my favourite bitsof artwork recently. It's a process I recommend to any digital artist attempting to better themselves. Rather than starting from scratch, modifying older work provides a foundation to critique and expand on, as well as revealing the the results of new techniques or styles relatively quickly. I've found it not only helps generate get old bits of work to higher standards, but that it helps produce stronger work more rapidly when starting fresh images.

My latest revisions are to an image of a nesting Torvosaurus tanneri, first published in 2013 atop my post on daleks, xenomorphs and palaeoart. The initial inspiration for this piece was the then-recent discovery of Torvosaurus eggs and embryos in Portugal (Araújo et al. 2013), and the misfiring palaeoart accompanying publication of the discovery (Jurassic Park Velociraptors stood in for Torvosaurus, which - even though the art was well produced - still constitutes a major palaeoart fail). In 2013, and moreso in this 2015 revamp, I attempted to render the nest-guarding Torvosaurus as obviously scaly and 'reptilian'. There are lots of spikes, folds, bumpy textures and sags of skin - sort of like some modern monitors and iguanas. This is a deliberate nod to both the fact that not all theropods would have looked like overgrown birds, and that some dinosaurs were indeed scaly, but also to the work of classic palaeoartists: Zdenek Burian and Charles Knight. Both, of course, worked under the impression that dinosaurs were fully-reptilian animals (as opposed to stem birds combining classically 'avian' and 'reptilian' characteristics) and it's clear that modern reptiles were primary references for their work, maybe even moreso than the underlying skeletons! Their dinosaurs are frequently adorned with all manner of wattles, dewlaps, frills, skin folds, and elaborate scales, and make for striking, memorable takes on many extinct species. I think their highly detailed dinosaur integuments were a big part of their success as palaeoartists.  As much as we look at their work as scientifically dated now, Knight and Brian really knew how to make their subjects look like real animals of unique, interesting and characteristic appearance.

In revisiting some Knight and Burian work recently, it struck me that their depictions of dinosaur skin were actually quite progressive. Pre-Paulian palaeoartists are often viewed as presenting inaccurate, over-conservative depictions of extinct animals. That observation is not entirely without merit, but at least the integuments of these 20th century depictions show this work was not devoid of elaborations and speculations on extinct life. Some of their portrayals of dinosaurs include heavy armour, elaborate frills and spines, as well as smooth or wrinkled skin without any indication these structures existed - Knight's 'Agathaumus' or Burian's Chasmosaurus are classic examples of such reconstructions. The skin is so striking that it is just as memorable and interesting as the animal itself and, if such animals existed today, their skin would be a talking point or namesake. We can only assume that Knight and Burian based these integuments on those of modern animals while also avoiding contradicting fossil data about the life appearance of these animals known to them or their advisers. It's difficult not to view this as reasoned speculation within the data limits of their respective eras and, in this respect, these outlandish integuments might represent early embodiment of the speculative, progressive attitudes now lauded in modern palaeoart and All Yesterdays. 

Indeed, there's a discussion to be had about whether later 20th century Paulian palaeoart, which might be summarised as using quite literal interpretations of fossil data, was a step backwards in this regard. As much as Paulian art promoted a much-needed emphasis on fossil data and meticulous reconstruction methodologies, and produced some classic art in it's own right, its over-reliance on the fossil record is a known problem. The fossil record is not only full of gaps, but also presents a very selective, distorted view of even well-known species. Perhaps this is why some pre-Paulian artworks still look, for all their scientific flaws, like renderings of real animals, whereas some Paulian-era pieces look less convincing, even when the artworks are excellent themselves. Again, I find myself returning to well-trodden thoughts about the fossil record not capturing everything an artist needs to portray extinct animals with the same conviction as modern species. If that's true for us now, it was even truer for Knight and Burian, who were working with a far less complete picture of extinct life than we currently enjoy. Perhaps they deserve praise for not only being excellent artists and influential figures within palaeoart, but also for the ways they speculated and experimented - even if only a little - to make their restorations as compelling as they are.

Wrinkly old Torvosaurus 2015, in detail. 

As is par for the course now, prints of the Torvosaurus painting can be bought from my store along with a bunch of other recent work. If you enjoy seeing my work and articles online, buying prints is a great way to ensure more content follows!

Reference

  • Araújo, R., Castanhinha, R., Martins, R. M., Mateus, O., Hendrickx, C., Beckmann, F., Schnell, N, & Alves, L. C. (2013). Filling the gaps of dinosaur eggshell phylogeny: Late Jurassic theropod clutch with embryos from Portugal. Scientific reports, 3.

Short-necked azhdarchid pterosaurs - say what?

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LPV (FGGUB) R.2395, our unnamed short-necked azhdarchid from Maastrichtian deposits of the Hațeg basin. Prints of this chap are available.

Odds are that most regular readers of this blog are familiar with azhdarchid pterosaurs, the toothless, often gigantic flying reptiles which increasingly dominated pterosaur evolution in the Cretaceous. With a better fossil record than most pterosaur lineages, they are among the best understood and most researched of all flying reptiles. In recent years our understanding of their anatomy, distribution and palaeobiology has advanced considerably.

Since azhdarchids were recognised as a group in the 1980s it has been realised that their most striking and characteristic features pertain to their neck anatomy. In both relative and absolute terms they have the longest necks of any pterosaurs, stretching their mid-series cervical vertebrae to long tubes with reduced features. Cervicals IV - VI are especially long and tubular, with the mid-portions of the neural spines reduced to such a degree that they are effectively split into anterior and posterior sections. The only significantly developed features of these cervicals are bulbous zygopophyses and condyles, which nestle together so snugly that neck articulation seems limited. Regular readers will know that this has considerable bearing on the likely habits of these animals, probably precluding strenuous lifestyles such as skim-feeding or pelican-like scooping. The extremes of their neck bones - cervicals I - III, and the somewhat 'dorsalised' VIII - IX - are less modified, although some azhdarchid weirdness infects these too in terms of length, neural spine shape, or both.

With azhdarchid cervicals being so diagnostic, they can be identified when found in isolation and even when only poorly preserved. Indeed, many azhdarchid occurrences are represented by isolated cervicals - they compete with jaw tips for the most common type of azhdarchid fossil. In recent years, the complete neck osteology of the Santonian, central Asian azhdarchid Azhdarcho lancicollis has been documented in some detail (Averianov 2010), permitting some insight into which specific part of the neck sequence isolated neck bones represent. It can be a little tough to tell a cervical IV and V apart - they seem very similar, except that V is invariably the longer of the two (indeed, the longest of the entire neck) - but we can now at least tentatively identify bones from the rest of the sequence. This is a major breakthrough, meaning that isolated cervicals can tell us a lot more than just where an azhdarchid was preserved: their potential for taxonomic and biomechanical studies has been increased considerably.

Eyes to Romania

A lot of new azhdarchid material, including said isolated cervicals, has recently been emerging from various Maastrichtian deposits of Romania. These sediments represent the rivers and lakes which once ran through Hațeg island, an ancient setting famous for its dwarf dinosaurs and the enormous azhdarchid Hatzegopteryx thambema. The Hațeg pterosaurs, and their neighbours from Transylvania, have been the focus of a number of recent pterosaur papers and, this week, a team of researchers (including Mátyás Vremir, myself, Darren Naish, Gareth Dyke, Stephen Brusatte, Mark Norell, and Radu Totoianu) published another in American Museum Novitates (Vremir et al. 2015). It reports the discovery of just one bone* - the near-complete azhdarchid cervical LPV (FGGUB) R.2395, from Hațeg Basin red beds - but it's enough to cast new light on these otherwise familiar azhdarchid fossils, as well as the general evolution of azhdarchids themselves.

*So yes, the picture at the top is 1% fossil data, 99% palaeoart polyfiller.


Line drawing of LPV (FGGUB) R.2395, isolated azhdarchid cervical IV or V. It don't look like much, but it's got it where it counts. From Vremir et al. 2015.
R.2395 (above) is not a large vertebra, being an estimated 100 mm long and 44 mm across the prezygapophyses when complete (it's missing the posterior portion, including most of the condyle and postzygagpophyses, as well as the left prezygapophysis). Our paper provides a long discussion about the likely portion of the neck represented by R.2395, concluding that it is probably a cervical IV or V. In azhdarchids, these vertebrae are among the longest of all, sometimes being eight times longer than wide. R.2395 was clearly a lot stouter than this however, barely being twice longer than broad. This proportion is unique among azhdarchid CIV and Vs, and there was some discussion among our team as to whether or not this was sufficient to erect a new taxon. In the end we decided the material was too scant to support a name of its own, but it is almost certainly a new species.

The width of R.2395 suggests the neck owner was not a tiny animal. It's difficult to get a size estimate from a single neck bone, especially with cervical length varying so much taxonomically across Pterosauria, as well as ontogenetically. However, vertebral width is a little more stable with respect to overall body size, and that of R.2395 indicates an animal on the small size for an azhdarchid - an arm-wavy wingspan estimate of 3 m seems about right. When we plugged the length of R.2395 into a database of near-complete azhdarchid necks, we found the estimated CIII - CVIII length was a paltry 352–419 mm (the range depends on whether it represents a CIV or CV): 23-41% shorter than the estimated neck length of the similarly-sized Transylvanian azhdarchid Eurazhdarcho, langendorfensis and notably shorter than neck of the smaller (2.5 m wingspan) Chinese azhdarchid Zhejiangopterus linhaiensis  (measured neck length 502 mm). It seems R.2395 did indeed have a short, robust neck for an azhdarchid of its size.

The possibility that R.2395 represents a short-necked juvenile of a long-necked species was something we looked into. After all, pterosaur necks seem to increase in length disproportionately to body size, and a 3 m wingspan would leave a lot of growing room for several azhdarchid species. However, the bone texture of R.2395 is characteristically 'polished' and avascular where well preserved, which has been suggested for some pterosaurs as an indicator of skeletal maturity. This observation is bolstered by the sharply ossified anatomy of R.2395: young pterosaur skeleltons tend to have rounded, poorly defined features, but our vertebra shows a surprising amount of sharply-defined detail in its superficially simple form. We don't know how old R.2395 was when it died, but it did seem to have a very well-ossified skeleton: it was likely at, or very near to, full size, and further neck growth seems unlikely. 

What does it mean to find short necks in a clade thought to be defined by long necks? We have no idea how this plugs into azhdarchid evolution, although the retention of all azhdarchid cervical features apart from the enhanced length is of interest there. We might also conclude that suggestions azhdarchids were all anatomically similar (e.g. Witton and Naish 2008) are questionable. There are doubtless some functional and palaeoecological implications of this discovery as well - we speculate that neck mechanics and strength likely differed between long- and short-necked azhdarchids - but further remains are clearly needed to say anything substantial about specific functionality. And... in truth, I'm biting my tongue here: there's tons to say about this, but I don't want to scoop other papers which are in prep and review. Both myself and Darren Naish have been hinting at some of this short-necked azhdarchid stuff for a while now, and heavily implying that we have things to say about Haztegopteryx as well as this much smaller animal. Some readers may, therefore, be wondering why there's no discussion of giant pterosaurs here. We were both hoping that this would be out by now as well, but it turns out that this parallel-running project has been published first - that's just how these things work out sometimes! Further details on these finds is coming, with other publications in states of progress which will add to this picture. Watch this space, in other words.

To end on a less cagey note, it is worth briefly mentioning why the seemingly maximum size of R.2395 is rather interesting. It is often said that small pterosaurs are absent from the upper Cretaceous, a fact sometimes controversially attributed to competition with birds. If R.2395 really is an adult, it joins Eurazhdarcho and the 2.5 m wingspan Montanazhdarcho in suggesting that smaller pterosaurs were not absent, and perhaps even not uncommon, in the latest Cretaceous. Granted, these species are not as small as some pre-Cretaceous pterosaurs, but they are certainly size-consistent with taxa found in Lower Cretaceous Lagerstätten of China and Brazil. I do wonder if the lack of sites of exceptional preservation in the Late Cretaceous has resulted in under-sampling of smaller pterosaur species in Late Cretaceous rocks, and that drawing conclusions about the Cretaceous decline of diminutive pterosaurs, and associated competition with birds, is premature. An elephant in the room here is the scarcity of small, Late Cretaceous juvenile pterosaurs: we know they had to exist, and yet they are exceptionally rare fossils. There is clearly a preservation bias against these small individuals - can we rule out that the same bias was not acting against small adults, too? That might be nonsense, but I do wonder if  we sometimes take the - knowingly poor - fossil record of pterosaurs a bit too literally.

A quick plug for a good cause

Finally, some readers will know that I like to bang drums about Supporting Original Palaeoart, and that it's often independent artists who're providing some of the more interesting and creative palaeoart projects out there. One of these comes from David and Jennie Orr (David is perhaps best known around these parts for founding Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs, as well as a his unique, stylish artwork), who have launched an Indiegogo campaign to fund their book Mammoth is Mopey. It's a wonderfully illustrated book for younger readers showing a different prehistoric animal for each letter of the alphabet. The animals in question aren't the same tried-and-tested taxa we see in every kids book however: they're the likes of Brontomerus, Jeholopterus, Gorgonops and so on, and each is wonderfully illustrated in David's Bézier-curve-loving style. It looks great, and I've already pledged enough for two copies: one for my nephew, and another for me (hey, you're never too old to have an alphabet refresher, right?). An example image from the book is below - I can't wait to see the rest.

Artistic Ankylosaurus is artistic. From Mammoth is Mopey, which you can support here. Illustration by David Orr.

References

  • Averianov, A. O. (2010). The osteology of Azhdarcho lancicollis Nessov, 1984 (Pterosauria, Azhdarchidae) from the late Cretaceous of Uzbekistan. Proceedings of the Zoological Institute RAS, 314(3), 264-317.
  • Witton, M. P., & Naish, D. (2008). A reappraisal of azhdarchid pterosaur functional morphology and paleoecology. PLoS One, 3(5), e2271.
  • Vremir, M., Witton, M., Naish, D., Dyke, G., Brusatte, S. L., Norell, M. & Totoianu, R. 2015. A medium-sized robust-necked azhdarchid pterosaur (Pterodactyloidea: Azhdarchidae) from the Maastrichtian of Pui (Haţeg Basin, Transylvania, Romania). American Museum Novitates 3827, 1-16. 

More new-old art: Therizinosaurus, superpigeon, and Polacanthus, walking coffee table

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Two Therizinosaurus cheliformis hanging out in Late Cretaceous Mongolia. The guy on the left thinks he's all that: she doesn't. Prints are available from my online store.

Time for more new takes on old pictures. First up, above, is a reworking of my 2013 image of two Therizinosaurus cheloniformis, giant therizinosaurids from Maastrichtian deposits of Mongolia. Before we knew just how bizarre Deinocheirus was, these pot-bellied, small-headed and scythe-clawed animals held the title of least expected anatomy in a non-avian theropod. The metre-long claws on their hands suggest they were dangerous, ferocious animals, and they are often restored with long arms and claws ready to lash out at passers by. I don't doubt that being clobbered by a Therizinosaurus would be an experience best avoided, but, being herbivores, they probably spent far more of their time eating and digesting that they did swatting other animals. For me, Therizinosaurus was figuratively 'de-clawed' for good in John Conway's restoration of them as squatting, shaggy 'feather mountains' harvesting leaves from trees. Since then, restorations of keen-eyed, 'scythe weilding' therizinosaurs have seen especially silly, even among other 'slasher pose' artwork.

My own restoration of these animals sides with the idea of Therizinosaurus being a large herbivore largely disinterested in the world around it. A clear source of reference for this painting were pigeons, specially the wood pigeon Columba palumbus. I find the proportions of these birds - tubby bodies, small feet, small heads - reminiscent of the anatomy of large therizinosaurs, and I thought it might be fun to mix the two together. The male animal on the left of the image is engaged in pigeon-like display behaviour, strutting around with a cocked head, inflated chest and making noises best described as 'übercoos'. The female, right, like most female pigeons presented with courting, couldn't be less interested (although, to be honest, it's hard to tell what pigeons find interesting: they always seem a bit confused to me. They're like avian Dougal McGuires).

Much as I normally try to avoid painting ancient animals in the clothes of modern species, I quite like the spin the pigeon-appearance puts on these animals. All too often Mesozoic dinosaurs are considered embodiments of savage natural selection and intense, often violent competition. There are few modern animals with characters further from this concept than pigeons, which succeed despite their apparent tendencies for confusion, pratfallery, and seemingly simple behaviour*. Transferring these qualities to the Mesozoic seems to put a different spin on ancient dinosaur lifestyles ecology.

*I say this with fondness: I find watching pigeons really interesting. I'm sure they're a lot more sophisticated than they often appear.

Wealden ankylosaur Polacanthus foxii and tiny feathered friends. Prints are available from my store.
Next up is another reworked 2013 piece, the large ankylosaur Polacanthus foxii on a Wealden hillock, with some speculative avians hitchikers. I was lucky enough to have a quick glimpse at some new Polacanthus material being worked on at the University of Southampton a few years back, including lots of limb and hip elements. The size of the specimens was really impressive (an impression helped, I guess, by the fact I'm used to working on much smaller, more gracile pterosaur bones) and it definitely seems that, like other ankylosaurs, Polacanthus was a 'walking coffee table': a low slung creature with a flattish back. The broad sacral shield of was probably an excellent place to put drinks, and experts have recently predicted that Polacanthus had very strict 'use a coaster' policy.

There are two species of birds show here: a flock of small, grey forms leaving the tree, and a suite of smaller brown birds hanging out on the Polacanthus itself. These animals are speculative additions to this Wealden scene as, while possible avialan teeth have from one Wealden formation (the Wessex) have been mentioned, I don't think they've been described or analysed in detail just yet. However, a diverse suite of small birds have been found in Lower Cretaceous deposits elsewhere in the world (including Wealden-equivalent deposits of Spain, and famously in China), so it's not a huge stretch to embellish a painting with such animals.

Tyrannosaurus and Triceratops - friends at last?

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Tyrannosaurus and Triceratops, not locked in mortal combat. Something must be wrong.  Cretaceous interspecies adoption concept, mimicking similar behaviours seen in modern mammals and birds, by Chidumebi Browne. Prints are available here.
Is there a more iconic palaeontological scene than Tyrannosaurus facing down Triceratops? The artistic association of these taxa has existed since at least 1906 when the very first, highly influential restoration of Tyrannosaurus (by Charles Knight, of course) pictured these animals alongside each other (Glut 2008). This idea flowed into aspects the first dinosaur movies - The Ghost of Slumber Mountain(1918) and The Lost World (1925) (unsurprisingly, given how much these films are indebted to Knight) - and, by 1928, the year Knight completed the famous Field Museum mural of Tyrannosaurus and Triceratops, their adversarial relationship was truly cemented. Book illustrations, TV shows and films have so perpetually shown encounters between these species that it's difficult to think of a new angle on this scene. At least, that's what I thought until being contacted by Chidumebi Browne, who asked me about working up a second Tyrannosaurus picture for him, this time co-starring Triceratops. Instead of combat however, he wondered about likelihood of a juvenile Triceratops being 'adopted' by the tyrant, as some animals make the headlines for doing so today (see below). Clearly I liked the idea enough to carry out the commission (I try to avoid things I feel are too unreasonable), but is this pure speculation, playing on gaps in our knowledge, or is there something credible to this idea? Could Triceratops and Tyrannosaurus, after more than a century of conflict, learn to be friends?

The literature on animal adoption is vast, with something like 270 species of mammal and bird known to adopt juveniles of their own species (via kidnapping, accidental inheritance or other means - Riedman 1982; Avital et al. 1998). Interspecific adoption is far rarer however, and most records pertain to animals housed in zoos or wildlife park. These adoptions can work both ways: juveniles can 'recruit' surrogate parents as readily as parents adopt surrogate offspring (for instance, the bond between Owen, a young hippo, and Mzee, a century-old giant Aldabran tortoise, seems to mostly reflect efforts of the hippo). There is relatively little documentation of interspecies adoption in wild animals, however. The example everyone knows is the Kenyan lioness Kamunyak, who has become something of a sensation for her habit of adopting young oryx. She adopted at least six calves before she was last sighted in 2004, defending them from others - including predators, humans seeking to intervene, and oyrx mothers - as if they were her own cubs. At least one species of monkey, as well as wading, raptorial and passerine birds have also adopted and reared the juveniles of other species (Izar et al. 2006; Literak and Mraz 2011; Oswald et al. 2013). Brood parasitism - the offloading of parental duties to other species - clearly exploits this behaviour (Riedman 1982), and famously occurs in cuckoos, certain ducks and geese, cowbirds, fish and bees.

The significance and evolutionary purpose of these interspecific relationships remains mysterious in many cases. Of course, the internet is awash with suggestions that these species have become 'friends', typically accompanied by heavily-edited video footage showing two different species at their squeeful snugglywugilinest. If they feature predators engaging in joyful play or nurturing behaviour with usual prey species, all the better. According to those sagest of human beings - internet commenters - these examples of natural harmony show us - spiteful, war-making human beings - to be the real animals. Truly, we are awful.

In the real world, the causes of these relationships are considerably less fluffy. The fact that most interspecies adoptions develop in captivity is not surprising, likely resulting from the close quarters contact between individuals and the deficient of conspecifics. Desires for parents, mates or group behaviours in some animals may be so strong in some species that they become blinded to the clear differences between themselves and the only other individuals they know. It's difficult to know whether these examples provide good models for interspecific adoption in natural circumstances.

Pictured: trouble in the neighbourhood.
The rarity of wild cases of interspecies adoption makes it hard to draw any firm conclusions about its adaptive significance, if it even has any (Izar et al. 2006). Although juvenile animals may receive some benefit from being adopted (especially if the alternative is not having parents at all), most biologists consider interspecific adoption a mistake - 'misdirected parenting' from confused adults. For some instances of bird adoption, this might reflect the similar appearance of chicks within certain lineages: adults simply can't tell them apart (Oswald et al. 2013). The circumstances surrounding some 'adoptions' are truly bizarre, where adoptees are ex-prey items which have become surrogate offspring. This has certainly happened with sea eagles where, having brought local buzzard chicks back to their own nest, presumably to eat, they started rearing them instead (Literak and Mraz 2011). It is assumed that the appearance of a raptor chick in their nest overrode any feeding impulses of these eagles, and they successfully reared several buzzards in this fashion (Literak and Mraz 2011). The idea that these parenting 'misfires' reflect recognition errors is supported by at least one instance where Caspian terns, rearing Ring-billed gulls, dropped their degree of parenting as juveniles outgrew resemblance to typical tern offspring (Oswald et al. 2013).

It is less easy to explain adoption across taxonomic and ecological boundaries so wide that even passing resemblance is unlikely. It must be said here that peer reviewed literature on these cases is hard to find, at least in my experience, so much of what is reported online is found in documentariesand newsstories - not the most ideal venues for discussing complex, unusual animal behaviour (this is not a sleight against the experts featured in such outlets, just that these things are highly-edited and narrative-hungry, which often leads to embellishment and distortion of facts). As an example of how highly selective these reports can be, some stories of lions 'adopting' prey animals result from 45 minutes of observation, receiving justified scepticism from biologists. 45 minutes of coexistence does not equal a clear case of adoption, especially in species renowned for toying with easily overpowered prey.

Where these cases carry more reliability - such as the widely verified case of Kamunyak and her oryx calves - behavioural factors remain unclear. It seems unlikely that a lioness would visually confuse an oryx calf was her own, except for the possibility that her eyesight was very poor. I see explanations that possible recent, traumatic loss of her (genetic) offspring as premature on the available evidence, most likely spurred on by a desire to project human values into a simplified narrative. The fact that Kamunyak ended up eating the starved carcass of one of her adoptees, and became a serial adoptee suggests her condition might be more complex and deeper-seated than a response to one recent event. Moreover, if cub death is the catalyst for this behaviour, would it not be more common in other lions? As far as I'm aware, cub death is a pretty frequent occurrence. It also strikes me that lots of medical conditions - head trauma, brain tumours, organ malfunction leading to hormone imbalances, even certain diseases - can drastically alter animal behaviour. As far as I'm aware, no assessment of Kamunyak's health was made before she disappeared. I wonder if an illness of some kind is a more parsimonious explanation of Kamunyak's condition than complex, psychological trauma.

Let's bring all this back to Chidumebi's concept: could extinct dinosaurs have engaged in inter-species adoption, especially species as different as Triceratops and Tyrannosaurus? We certainly know that modern animals can establish these weird relationships even between animals as different as large predators and tiny prey. We also know that dinosaurs are capable of inter-species adoption, because modern birds engage in this behaviour. On these analogies, a Tyrannosaurus adopting a Triceratops is not too far fetched. We might assume that their morphological distinctions are so great that the tyrant is not misidentifying the ceratopsid for offspring of its own, and thus must be a 'behaviourally abnormal' tyrannosaur: a Cretaceous Kamunyak, if you like. The background tyrants are meant to be behaviourally 'normal', and have sighted the Triceratops calf - I expect, as is reported for many of Kamunyak's adoptions, that the Triceratops infant would not last long.

So... is this the first picture of an obviously slightly unhinged tyrannosaur?
This exercise is hampered ultimately by a lack of knowledge about the parentage of fossil dinosaurs however, and particularly that of tyrannosaurs. Despite the relative wealth of knowledge on tyrant dinosaur palaeobiology (they are extremely well studied compared to other fossil groups), we still know very little, if anything, about tyrannosaur parental behaviour. Parenting is so varied among reptiles and birds that even phylogenetic brackets are of questionable use here. Strong parental instincts seem like a prerequisite for interspecific adoption, and the evidence is equivocal for such instincts in Tyrannosaurus. Until we know more about this, the likelihood of the scene above remains questionable. Of course, that doesn't mean the image composition is without merit: there are scenarios where predators and baby prey individuals coexist peacefully, such as when adult prey animals have run off and juveniles, being slower, have hidden instead. Indeed, such scenarios likely explain some hastily dubbed predator-prey 'adoptions' reported in the media. At least that provides a partial answer to our question, then: could Tyrannosaurus and baby Triceratops get along? Probably - at least until the former got hungry.

References

  • Avital, E., Jablonka, E., & Lachmann, M. (1998). Adopting adoption. Animal Behaviour, 55(6), 1451-1459.
  • Glut, D. (2008). Tyrannosaurus rex: a century of celebrity. In: Larson, P. and Carpenter, K. (eds) Tyrannosaurus rex, the tyrant king. Indiana University Press. 398-427
  • Izar, P., Verderane, M. P., Visalberghi, E., Ottoni, E. B., Gomes De Oliveira, M., Shirley, J., & Fragaszy, D. (2006). Cross‐genus adoption of a marmoset (Callithrix jacchus) by wild capuchin monkeys (Cebus libidinosus): case report. American Journal of Primatology, 68(7), 692-700.
  • Literak I, & Mraz J. (2011). Adoptions of young Common Buzzards in White-tailed Sea Eagle nests. The Wilson Journal of Ornithology 123(1), 174-176.
  • Oswald, S. A., Wails, C. N., Morey, B. E., & Arnold, J. M. (2013). Caspian Terns (Hydroprogne caspia) Fledge a Ring-billed Gull (Larus delawarensis) Chick: Successful Waterbird Adoption Across Taxonomic Families. Waterbirds, 36(3), 385-389.
  • Riedman, M. L. (1982). The evolution of alloparental care and adoption in mammals and birds. Quarterly Review of Biology, 405-435.

The weird, awesome, and weirdly awesome, Triassic hindlimb-glider Sharovipteryx mirabilis

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Sharovipteryx mirabilis, a tiny reptilian 'hindlimb glider' from the Late Triassic of Kyrgyzstan. A Triassic spider is thrown in for fun (spiders are a very ancient group, and were almost certainly present along the ancient lakes frequented by Sharovipteryx). Prints of this painting can be purchased here.
Sharovipteryx mirabilis is a mainstay of books on prehistoric animals, a Triassic Kyrgyz species mentioned frequently as a weird and wonderful, non-dinosaurian Mesozoic species. It is best known for its hindlimb-dominated approach to gliding, but also achieves some popularity via suggestions that it might be closely related to pterosaurs. This relationship is suggested by the possession of membranous flight organs in both lineages and some similarity in hindlimb structure. Recent studies have not looked favourably on this suggestion however, because the detailed anatomy of pterosaurs, distorted as it is by their flight adaptations, shows much greater similarity to that of dinosaurs and their immediate ancestors to that of Sharovipteryx. Moreover, with membranous gliding aids appearing and disappearing multiple times in the evolution of gliding species (including other fossil reptiles) their shared presence in Sharovipteryx and Pterosauria may have little evolutionary significance. Although the relationships of Sharovipteryx to other reptiles remain somewhat ambiguous (see below), most suggest they are part of Protorosauria, an early offshoot from the archosauromorphs which also includes weirdo taxa like Tanystropheus and the drepanosaurs.

The anatomy and proportions of Sharovipteryx are remarkable and unique. We only know of this species from a fossil discovered in 1965, later named and described in 1971 by Alexander G. Sharov. Initially called Podopteryx, it became Sharov’s namesake in 1981 when it was realised that a damselfly already existed with the former name. Our only specimen of Sharovipteryx is variably preserved – sometimes excellently, sometimes considerably less so. Although most of the skeleton is represented, some of the bones are crushed and the two bony slabs sharing the skeleton are split through the middle of some bones – most notably the skull. This has resulted in some controversy concerning detailed interpretations of Sharovipteryx anatomy and hindered discussions of its relationships to other animals. Some of these disagreements are significant, not the least being whether or not any material from the forelimbs is known. Some authors claim to have not only found elements of the arms, but enough to ascertain that that they were proportionally short. Others suggest there is no trace of them at all, and further interpretations suggest the arms were present, but damaged and modified during specimen preparation.

Holotype and only known specimen of Sharovipteryx mirabilis. From Gans et al. (1987).
Such details aside, many elements of Sharovipteryx appearance are relatively clear and can be crudely summarised as resembling a small (< 250 mm long, including tail), long-bodied lizard with enormous, membrane-bound legs. Skin impressions adjacent to the skull, torso and feet show the body was covered with small scales, some of which overlapped. The head was small (19 mm long) and narrow with a short snout, large eyes, small nostril openings and at least 15 small, sharp and widely-spaced teeth in each jaw. The neck and trunk are long and narrow, and of approximately equal length. The narrow tail was at least as long as the body and neck combined. Arm and shoulder bones, as indicated above, are at best very poorly known, or not known at all - depending who you ask. It is likely they were - like those of other protorosaurs - relatively short. It is a shame that we do not know them better: some protorosaur arms are adapted for unusual habits in truly bizarre ways, and given how strange many details of Sharovipteryx are, odd hand or forelimb anatomy would not be unexpected.

The legs of Sharovipteryx are, of course, the most striking feature of the animal. The crus is slightly longer than the thigh, with each bone being approximately as long, if not a little longer, than the torso. The five-toed feet are not especially slender however, although they are proportionally large and broad. Much of their size is devoted to the toes, which increase in size from digit I - V, while the body of the foot is rather short and robust.

Behind the legs and feet is a set of expansive, scale-less membranes extending from the base of the tail, along the posterior margin of the leg, and down to the large fifth toe. These membranes bear striations and folds radiating from the tightly-folded legs. The striations may be fibres within the membranes themselves, perhaps acting to control membrane flutter and aid neat membrane collapse, but the folds suggest Sharovipteryx membranes did not shrink entirely when the legs were folded in. Similarly folded membranes occur in some modern gliders, such as flying squirrels. It is widely thought that these membranes could be deployed as a gliding apparatus simply by extending the legs sideways, a posture clearly attainable in life given the fossilised pose of our sole Sharovipteryx specimen. It is unlikely that Sharovipteryx could flap its hindlimb wings however, its pelvis and hindlimb bones lacking suitable room and reinforcement for flapping muscle attachment.

Whether other membranes were present in front of the legs - or even along the arms - is debated. Some suggest they can be observed on the specimen, but this is not universally agreed on. There are aerodynamic reasons to suspect the posterior hindlimb membrane was not the sole flight surface, however. Studies modelling the glide performance of Sharovipteryx find that the centre of lift is located too far back along the body to safely glide and land without the aid of additional membranes. In other words, there is too much weight in front of the wing, and the animal would risk toppling forward in flight or landing at hazardous speeds. An anterior flight surface, perhaps along the front of the thigh or associated with the arms, would negate these issues and permit safer landings.

Alternative reconstructions of the flight apparatus of Sharovipteryx. Reconstruction 'd' not only provides the best glide path, but also makes flight safe enough to ensure happy landings. Scale bar is 20 mm. From Dyke et al. (2006).

How effective was hindlimb-dominated gliding? It is tempting to take the absence of this gliding mechanic from modern animals as a sign of inefficiency. After all, we see gliding and parachuting in fish, rodents, flying ‘lemurs’, frogs, snakes, lizards and more groups, and none rely on a gliding system approximating that of Sharovipteryx. Indeed, key similarities in gliding anatomies have developed within these groups, perhaps indicating certain 'optimal' gliding adaptations exist for vertebrates. For instance, both frogs and geckos glide on splayed tissues around their hands and feet. All gliding mammals sport extensive membranes between all four limbs. Gliding snakes and agamid lizards have mobile ribs which can expand their bodies into flattened aerofoils. Although the details of these structures differ – as would be expected given their development in such distantly related animals – it is nevertheless interesting that the same anatomical components have developed repeatedly into gliding organs. Perhaps the uniqueness of hindlimb-dominated gliding to Sharovipteryx indicates that it arose via an especially lax interval of natural selection and competition, and that it just doesn't cut the evolutionary mustard outside of the Triassic.

Flight models of the Sharovipteryx glide path conflict with this assessment, however. Indeed, some models of Sharovipteryx glide paths indicate more successful gliding abilities than skilled modern reptile gliders such as Draco, and potentially more manoeuvrability. The ability to control the principle flight membrane with movements of the legs and tail, along with additional (and hypothetical) assistance from forelimb membranes, likely conferred tight control over the glide path. It is notable that the uniqueness of Sharovipteryx gliding apparatus among animals is not carried over to human technology, its wing shape having been likened to delta wing aircraft - the sort of designs we see in fast, nimble fighter jets. In short, no experiments have suggested that the gliding apparatus of Sharovipteryx was ineffective or clumsy, and instead indicated quite the opposite.
Perhaps instead of viewing Sharovipteryx as an evolutionary oddball, we might wonder why more animals have not attained similar anatomies. I suspect the answer may lie in the need for a specific ancestral body form to become a hindwing-dominated glider. The legs must be relatively large to provide a suitable wing surface and possess greater potential for use as wings than the arms, as well as being able to project sideways. While there are plenty of animals with proportionally large hindlimbs, most are bipeds with hip joints particularly restrictive against lateral leg rotation. A small, lightweight body and head, probably reduced arms, long, balancing tail and perhaps climbing habits might also be ideal. It's difficult to think of species other than protorosaurs which might present such a combination of these characteristics, so the greatest potential for hindlimb gliders may have disappeared along with them at the end of the Triassic. Whatever the reason, the take home message is that Sharovipteryx as really a perfect recipe of genetic resources, adaptive pressures and animal behaviour to create a remarkable, unique and effective gliding animal, and not the result of an evolutionary wrong turn.

Of course, Sharovipteryx would not be gliding all the time: how did it move on land? Relatively little commentary exists on this point, but we might assume that terrestrial locomotion and climbing was used when foraging, perhaps for insects, given the absence of adaptations for aerial prey capture. Because the legs of Sharovipteryx are of such length, possibly much longer than the arms and support a large amount of soft-tissue, it is not unreasonable to wonder how walking and running was performed. Unfortunately, our lack of data on Sharovipteryx forelimb bones becomes a real issue here: modelling the terrestrial abilities of any extinct animal really has to start with knowing basic limb proportions. Protorosaurs seem to have been lizard-like quadrupeds, but the forelimbs of Sharovipteryx would have to be very long to operate in this fashion. Shorter forelimbs, as controversially-interpreted by some, do not strictly rule out quadrupedality, although they might require the adoption of frog- or rabbit-like hopping to work harmoniously with the enormous hindlimbs. Bipedality, of course, also cannot be excluded.

Quadrupedal or otherwise, the short, splaying foot of Sharovipteryx contrasts with the generally elongate feet of fast running animals. Despite its long limbs, Sharovipteryx was probably not adapted for routinely sprinting. This doesn’t completely rule out fast terrestrial locomotion of course – we see similar foot structure and limb proportions in rapidly running lizards like basilisks and frilled lizards – but we might assume it was not a regular part of Sharovipteryx habits. Climbing, however, like was: strongly built, asymmetrical feet with increasing lateral toe length like those seen in Sharovipteryx are common in climbing species. We might imagine Sharovipteryx as spending much of its time in tree canopies, and it is perhaps noteworthy that the fossil locality which yielded Sharovipteryx is also known for a diverse fossil flora. Artists might want to consider reconstructing Sharovipteryx with arms showing adaptations to climbing, given that climbing with hindlimbs alone might be very difficult - even for something as strange as Sharovipteryx. Strong feet may also be consistent with powerful leaping and impact absorption during landing, although – again – without knowing much about the Sharovipteryx forelimbs, reconstructing its landing cycle is difficult.

References

  • Dyke, G. J., Nudds, R. L., & Rayner, J. M. V. (2006). Flight of Sharovipteryx mirabilis: the world's first delta‐winged glider. Journal of Evolutionary Biology, 19(4), 1040-1043.
  • Gans, C., Darevski, I., & Tatarinov, L. P. (1987). Sharovipteryx, a reptilian glider?. Paleobiology, 415-426.

Mamenchisaurus youngi presents a money-off print offer and other links of interest

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Jurassic sauropod Mamenchisaurus youngi was a pretty freaky looking thing: a weird, upturned tail base; some sort of 'sail' along the hip/tail junction; a hugely oversize neck and massive shoulders. Here, one is shown engaging in a bird-like threat display: head and neck down, vocalising, and elevating its tail. The other is engaging in bird-like can't-be-botheredness.   Prints of this image are available here.
With apologies for a post entirely devoted entirely to loosening money from your pockets, there are three items of newsworthiness I want to share here. Two of them are even for decent, well-meaning causes. The other is my livelihood, which I also consider a good cause, but I'm aware I have a biased opinion on that.

1. Lots of new art at my print store, and a 20% discount for savvy types

In addition to updating this blog and Twitter, I also regularly add new artwork to my online print store. Much as I try to give each piece full airing and discussion here, I struggle to do this for all my work in a timely fashion, and they end up on sale before an accompanying article can be produced. Recent additions include:


*Thanks to co-conspirators Robert Gay and ReBecca Hunt-Foster for concepts and assistance with these pieces!

If you'd like to own a high quality Giclée print of one of these, or any of the other 29 paintings in there, now is a good time to purchase one. Until the end of April you can obtain a 20% discount on the print costs by entering the promotional code 'APRIL2015' at the store checkout. The code doesn't apply to shipping costs, but knocks a hefty chunk off the prints themselves. Armed with this code, prices range from £16-40 instead of their £20-50. All purchases support the production of more art and articles, so every purchase is sincerely appreciated.

It's not official until there's a shareable image for social media.

2. It's fund-raising auction time at the Portsmouth's Natural History Museum!

My local natural history museum, Cumberland House, is attempting to raise money for a new bee hive exhibition via an eclectic auction next week. The auction takes place on April 15th and offers a huge range of stuff: furniture, artwork, days out, full-blown holidays, money off cruise fares and a whole lot more. There's lots of stuff here which will be of interest to those outside of the local area and bids can be made remotely - you don't have to attend the auction personally to obtain some of that cool stuff. There's even some palaeoart for sale - a framed print of my 'Tyrannosaurus vs. bees' painting. Details of this, and a full low-down on the lots, are available in the auction catalogue (here) and at the Friends of Cumberland House Facebook page

3. Mammoth is Mopey (again)

Yeah, I know I've mentioned this before, but it's such a good project that I want to make sure it's known as widely as possible. Mammoth is Mopey is a book for younger readers showing a different prehistoric animal for each letter of the alphabet, with each species accompanied by a fun, quirky illustration. In keeping with the sauropod themed opener of this post, here's the Mammoth is Mopey 'Boastful Brontomerus'.

From Mammoth is Mopey, which you can support here. Illustration by David Orr.
As you might tell by the inclusion of this relatively obscure species, Mammoth is Mopey is going to introduce children and their parents to a new suite of prehistoric animals in a very fun, memorable way. It's rare to see projects aimed at very young children trying to break new ground like this, and that alone seems good reason to support it. The book, by David and Jennie Orr (David being well known for founding Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs), is currently halfway through an Indiegogo campaign and received just over 50% funding. With outreach exercises also riding on the successful funding of this project, it would be great to see it meet the $10,000 target in the next 20 days.

Right, that's my attempt to fleece readers of their money done for now. Less commercially-minded posts will follow soon.

And I, for one, welcome our new wukongopterid pterosaur overlords (to Europe)

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Upper Jurassic pterosaur Cuspicephalus scarfi, a species of some uncertain affinity, now confidently restored as a wukongopterid. How come? Read on. If you'd like a print of this image, please head to my print store.
One of the most significant pterosaur discoveries of recent years are the wukongopterids: small, upper Jurassic pterosaurs unknown before 2009 and most familiar in popular circles for Darwinopterus modularis. These pterosaurs are renowned for providing a morphological bridge between the two major stages of pterosaur evolution: the loose group of long-tailed species which dominated the Triassic and Jurassic phases of pterosaur history, and the Pterodactyloidea, short-tailed, large-skulled creatures which represent a second, better known phase of pterosaur evolution.

The manner in which wukongopterids link these groups will be familiar to many. Instead of showing a mosaic of basal and derived characteristics as expected from any species slotting into a evolutionary 'gap', their heads and necks developed a anatomies like those of pterodactyloids while their bodies and limbs retained features typical of earlier pterosaurs (Lü et al. 2010). Wukongopteridae is generally considered the sister taxon to the Pterodactlyoidea, the two forming the clade Monofenestrata after their shared attribute of combined nasal and antorbital openings. To date, all wukongopterids have been recovered from the Middle/Late Jurassic Tiaojishan Formation of China and, thanks to many complete specimens, their anatomy is already quite well known. The number of valid wukongopterid species remains uncertain: at least seven have been named, but some authors suggest these are oversplit to such an extent that they should all be synonymised into one species, D. modularis (Lü et al. 2012). This is yet to be investigated in detail but, if correct, note that wukongopterid posterboy D. modularis does not have nomenclatural priority. At least one other wukongopterid species was named a few months before D. modularis; two were if you take the 2010 paper version of the description as the ‘true’ publication date of D. modularis, not the 2009 online release.

Wukongopterids are not the only pterosaurs shedding light on the origins of the Pterodactyloidea. The recent discovery of another obviously ‘transitional’ taxon, the Late Jurassic, Solnhofen ‘Painten pro-pterodactyloid’ (Tischlinger and Frey 2014), seems to present a step towards pterodactyloid anatomy from that presented by wukongopterids. The only known specimen of this animal, which is privately owned and thus remains nameless, also shows some modularity of evolution with the body and limbs retaining hallmarks of earlier pterosaur evolution, while the skull has developed into something very similar to Jurassic ctenochasmatoids, especially Pterodactylus antiquus.

Monofenestratan pterosaur skulls. A, the wukongopterid Darwinopterus robustodens; B, likely pterodactyloid sister-taxon the ‘Painten Pro-pterodactyloid’; C, ctenochasmatoid Pterodactylus antiquus; D, azhdarchoid Tupuxuara leonardii; E, early dsungaripteroid Germanodactylus rhamphastinus; F, ornithocheiroid Ornithocheirus mesembrinus; G, early dsungaripteroid Germanodactylus cristatus. Scale bars represent 10 mm, except for D and F, which represent 100 mm. Note that neither A or B are pterodactyloids (the rest are), despite the similar skull shapes. Can we identify their skulls as non-pterodactyloidian without the help of postcranial anatomy? From Witton et al. 2015.
A crucial question concerning these new monofenestratan pterosaurs is how we recognise them without evidence of their combined ‘early pterosaur’ bodies and ‘pterodactyloid’ heads and necks. All current diagnoses of these pterosaurs rely on this combination of characteristics and, by necessity, need relatively complete specimens for identification. What can be done with fragmentary specimens, the likes of which comprise most pterosaur fossils? At least two teams of authors have suggested that limb proportions of non-pterodactyloid monofenestratans are characteristic so, as long as sufficient limb material is known, their isolated bodies have some chance of being identified. But what about their strikingly pterodactyloid-like skulls? In isolation, these bear so much resemblance to those of Jurassic pterodactyloids like Germanodactylus and Pterodactylus (above) that referral outside of Pterodactyloidea is unlikely without an associated, 'early-grade' body.

This is an issue my University of Portsmouth colleagues David Martill, Michael O’Sullivan and I tackled in a new (open access) paper, published today in Contributions to Zoology (Witton et al. 2015). Our interest in this problem is not purely theoretical, this paper picking up questions set down three years ago in the description of Cuspicephalus scarfi, a poorly-known British Jurassic monofenestratan (Martill and Etches 2012). Represented only from a partial skull (below) sharing similarities with both wukongopterids and the pterodactyloid Germanodactylus, Cuspicephalus remained of uncertain affinity when first described (Martill and Etches 2012 – an overview of this paper can be found at Dave Hone’s Archosaur Musings). In the same publication, Martill and Etches remarked that another European Jurassic pterosaur only known from cranial material (jaw tips), Normannognathus wellnhoferi (below), suffered similar problems to Cuspicephalus, its once sensible pterodactyloid identification (Buffetaut et al. 1998) now being questionable with wukongopterids on the scene. Taking the Martill and Etches study as our cue, we decided to take a closer look at the characteristics of non-pterodactyloid monofenestratan crania, and apply our findings to these two poorly-known European pterosaurs.

Jurassic pterosaur fossils aren't all complete skeletons and preserved soft-tissues - most of them look like this. A, MJML K1918, holotype skull of the long-snouted pterosaur Cuspicephalus scarfi Martill and Etches, 2013; B, MGCL 59’583, holotype of Normannognathus wellnhoferi Buffetaut et al., 1998. Scale bars represent 50 mm (A) and 10 mm (B). From Witton et al. 2015
I don’t want to rehash our anatomical comparisons in full here – the paper is free for all to read, so you can easily find these details there – but we concluded that yes, wukongopterid skulls are identifiable in isolation - we don't need associated postcrania to identify them. Their skulls are quite generalised in construction and best diagnosed by a combination of 16 character states relating to skull shape, features of the orbit, dentition and cranial crest anatomy, but we also found one character more-or-less unique to the group: an atypically long nasoantorbital fenestra. In exceeding 50% of the jaw length, only two derived Cretaceous pterodactyloid clades (istiodactylids and azhdarchoids) can boast longer nasoantorbital openings than wukongopterids. We also found that the ‘Painten pro-pterodactyloid’ also has its own take on monofenestratan cranial anatomy: like wukongopterids, it is best distinguished via a combination of features, but details of its dentition provide genuine apomorphies.

When applying these findings to our poorly-represented European specimens, we found virtually all evaluable features of Cuspicephalus (13 of 16) matched those of the wukongopterid character complex, it even bearing that especially long nasoantorbital fenestra. By contrast, it differs from the ‘Painten pro-pterodactyloid’ and ‘generic’-looking pterodactyloids such as Germanodactylus quite markedly. I’m happy that, as part of our means of demonstrating this, we managed to get some new details of Germanodactylus cristatus anatomy into the literature. There are specimens of this animal showing really big exoccipital processes (flaring projections anchoring neck muscles at the back of the skull - see illustration, above), but they remain relatively poorly documented. These processes not only have bearings on distinguishing Germanodactylus from Cuspicephalus, but might help resolve disputes about the placement of Germanodactylus among Pterodactyloidea (the relationships of this animal are controversial, but big exoccipitals are only known in dsungaripterid pterosaurs, one of the suggested phylogenetic homes of this taxon). The only feature really distinguishing Cuspicephalus from wukongopterids are some minor details of its anterior tooth placement, which we see as relatively little concern given strong similarities elsewhere and propensity for dental variation among even closely related pterosaurs. We conclude that the close relationship between Cuspicephalus and Darwinopterus suggested by Martill and Etches (2012) is likely, and go further in suggesting Cuspicephalus is a member of Wukongopteridae itself - the first to occur outside of China.

The picture is not so straightforward for Normannognathus however. Most of the characters once used to suggest Normannognathus was related to certain pterodactyloids are now realised as features seen across Monofenestrata, and, in being represented by only jaw tips and one tooth, there's not much to compare with other pterosaurs. A suite of features seen in Normannognathus (including crest height, upturned jaws, dental characteristics and midline jaw grooves) are found in ctenochasmatoid pterodactyloids, and we tentatively suggest it might have some link to this group. However, without more data, it’s hard to be certain exactly where in Monofenestrata this species belongs. Admitting defeat with Normannognathus suggests that our abilities to distinguish types of monofenestratan skulls remain a little limited, even after dedicated study – anything less than a near-complete skull (like the Cuspicepahlus holotype) might prove a challenge to identify.

Cuspicephalus was a relative giant compared to other wukongopterids: that's the second biggest wukongopterid (D. robustodens) on the left. Still, they're not enormous animals overall, as demonstrated by the use of a European robin (Erithacus rubecula) for scale. From Witton et al. 2015.
Are there any bigger-picture implications to our paper beyond taxonomy? Accepting that this is not a 'game changing' paper, we've at least started adding depth to our understanding of wukongopterid pterosaurs, which I’m happy about. Because these animals were previously only known from a very restricted pocket of space and time (Callovian/Oxfordian strata of China), their identification in Europe allows us to start appreciating the geographic and temporal range this group. Cuspicepahlus occurs in late-Kimmeridgian stage rocks, inferring that wukongopterids enjoyed at least 5-10 million years of evolutionary history, spread across Jurassic Laurasia.

Moreover, Cuspicephalus gives us an insight into the disparity of wukongopterids. It is the first wukongopterid with really obvious morphological distinction to previously known Chinese species, which are distinguished by such minor details that, as noted above, their taxonomy has been questioned. Cuspicephalus possesses a much longer, lower skull than any Chinese wukongopterid, as well as packing in more teeth at the anterior end of its jaws. It’s difficult to say what that means functionally, although we speculate that greater jaw reach and ability to handle small, slippery prey might be related to these features. Cuspicephalus is also considerably larger than its relatives in China, its skull exceeding 300 mm in length to make it one of the biggest Jurassic pterosaur skulls known. Interestingly, this does not translate into a particularly large animal overall: the heads of wukongopterids are proportionally large, and our wingspan estimate for Cuspicephalus (based on skull/wingspan ratios in other wukongopterids) is a relatively modest 1.2 m. The largest Jurassic pterosaurs span well over 2 m, so it remains moderately sized at best. However, its wingspan is still a lot larger than any other known wukongopterid however, which can be measured as spanning no more than 884 mm.

We're not quite done with Jurassic pterosaurs here yet: several on-going projects on the functionality of these pterosaurs, some of which are in the publication system, should be emerging in a few months. Hopefully, we won't be waiting long for them...

References

  • Lü, J., Unwin, D. M., Jin, X., Liu, Y., & Ji, Q. (2010). Evidence for modular evolution in a long-tailed pterosaur with a pterodactyloid skull. Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 277: 383–389.
  • Lü, J. C., Unwin, D. M., Zhao, B., Gao, C., & Shen, C. (2012). A new rhamphorhynchid (Pterosauria: Rhamphorhynchidae) from the Middle/Upper Jurassic of Qinglong, Hebei Province, China. Zootaxa, 3158, 1-19.
  • Martill, D. M., & Etches, S. (2012). A new monofenestratan pterosaur from the Kimmeridge Clay Formation (Kimmeridgian, Upper Jurassic) of Dorset, England. Acta Palaeontologica Polonica, 58(2), 285-294.
  • 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.
  • Witton, M. P., O’Sullivan M., & Martill, D. M. 2015. The relationships of Cuspicephalus scarfi Martill and Etches, 2013 and Normannognathus wellnhoferi Buffetaut et al., 1998 to other monofenestratan pterosaurs. Contributions to Zoology, 84(2), 115-127.

New takes on the Wealden Supergroup palaeobiota, part 1: Iguanodon, Neovenator, Eotyrannus and others

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Regular readers will know that I'm prone to dabbling in palaeoart depicting the environments and animals of the Wealden Supergroup, the 18 million year stretch of Early Cretaceous time represented by mud-and sandstone deposits across the southern UK. Recently, I've been updating some existing Wealden work as well as producing some new stuff of other Wealden species. With no time to produce a new post of substance, here's a bumper 'picture of the day'-type post. Initially, I was going to chuck something like ten images on here, but time has run short and I'll have to split it in two.

If you like anything here, remember that you can buy prints of them all from my shop (there's now a Wealden section, too), which is now also browsable from the comfort of Facebook. OK, enough preamble: into the Wealden once again...

Iguanodon bernissartensis: thumb wars

Two Iguanodon bernissartensis, the quintessential Wealden iguanodont, decide to settle their differences, while members of their herd watch on.
Poor old Iguanodon doesn't get the attention it used to, and a lot palaeoart we do see of it tends to focus on tried and tested behaviours: lots of standing about and eating, but not much else. In this new painting, I've attempted to show two big Iguanodon individuals settling an intra-specific dispute via use of thumb spikes. Long-term readers may recall that we've covered iguanodont thumb spikes before, and that I. bernissartensis has especially big ones. Here, they've been swinging their thumbs at each other's soft bits, causing deep, bloody wounds. This might seem extreme, but there are plenty of modern animals which take intraspecific fights to similarly gory levels - elephant seals were a key inspiration here. I imagine battling Iguanodon would look like an armed sumo-wrestling match, albeit with longer tails and less rice. Note that you can see the breath of several animals here: Wealden winters are not meant to be especially warm.

Rebbachisaurids vs. Neovenator salerii redux

Carcharodontosaurian Neovenator salerii stalks a pair of rebbachisaurid sauropods, using darkness as cover.
A while back I posted about dinosaur predation, noting that modern animal predator acts are often far less gladiatorial and epic than we might imagine. It's this slow, considered approach to predation which I'm attempting to show here, as the carcharodontosaur Neovenator stalks two rebbachisaurid sauropods in the dead of night. The idea is that the Neovenator has much better eyesight than the sauropods, who know they're in trouble, but can't really respond adequately. Note the rain: some recent models of Wealden palaeoclimates suggest it was wetter than previously modelled (albeit with very high evaporation rates for much of the year).

Anteophthalmosuchus hooleyi vs. Hypsilophodon foxii, redux

Large goniopholidid Anteophthalmosuchus hooleyi takes advantage of a flooding river to hunt two stranded Hypsilophodon foxii.
Speaking of rain, we know that some parts of the Wealden were prone to flooding following particularly intense downpours. That's good news for animals adapted for powerful swimming, but less welcome to species which prefer dry land. Here, in this reworked painting, the large Wealden goniopholidid Anteophthalmosuchus hooleyi has found a stranded pair of adult and juvenile Hypsilophodon foxii, and is taking full advantage of the situation. Goniopholodids are a group of almost-crocodiles characterised by long forelimbs, interlocking scutes and overbitten jaws - you can read more about them here.

Eotyrannus lengi: firestarter, redux 

Early tyrannosauroid Eotyrannus lengi stalks the edge of such a wildfire. 
What else does rain bring? Sometimes, lightning. When introduced to a parched Wealden landscape, lightning strikes caused short-lived canopy fires which, ultimately, created conditions ideal for fossil preservation. In this reworked painting, a fully-feathered tyrannosauroid Eotyrannus lengi is prowling the periphery of a Wealden canopy fire to grab any animals flushed out by the flames.

The tiny wars of Wesserpeton evansae, redux 

Two Wesserpeton evansae get in each other's faces, because some animals are just jerks.
OK, enough about Wealden weather. Here's a reworked version of two of the Wealden's tiniest tetrapods - indeed, some of the smallest fossil tetrapods of all - facing off in leaf litter. Recently named Wesserpeton evansae, these are albanerpetontids, very small amphibians which only died out a few million years ago. The 35 mm snout-vent length of these animals did nothing to temper their ferocity, and numerous jaws of Wesserpeton have healed fractures and breaks from intraspecific tussles. The animals in this picture are speaking the aggressive body language of modern salamanders as a prelude to their conflict. Two sauropods hang around in the background because, hey, it's called the Age of Dinosaurs for a reason. Some people have suggested this image borders on the trippy and surreal. Stay off the shrooms, kids. 

Rebbachisaurids and chums

Lower Cretaceous rebbachisaurids and giant sauropod 'Angloposeidon' look for water in this desiccating Wealden lake.
I do like rebbachisaurids, that group of sauropods who didn't get the memo about long necks. They're only represented by scrappy remains in the Wealden (a scapula) which is enough to tell us they were there, but not substantial enough to carry a name. Here, a few individuals are digging around a rapidly drying lake-bed to find a substantial source of water: digging elephants were the inspiration for this scene. In the background, probable brachiosaurid 'Angloposeidon' struts its stuff. It's meant to be walking particularly tall - I like the idea that fossil animals would carry themselves in different, characteristic ways, just as modern animals do. A pink gnathosaurine pterosaur has snuck into the foreground, just because. 

A lesser-seen Wealden scene: the Hastings Beds palaeobiota


Finally for now, here's one more new painting. This is a reconstruction of a swollen river representing part of the Hastings Beds, the oldest deposits of the Wealden, complete with local reptile fauna. The animals shown here are really poorly known: titanosaur 'Pelorosaurus' becklesii (bits of forelimb), possible carcharodontosaurian Becklespinax altispinax (three dorsal vertebrae), eucryptodiran turtle Hylaeochelys belli (a shell), and the possible azhdarchoid previously known as 'Palaeornis cliftii'(humerus). So yes, take the 'restorations' of these animals with an evaporite mine of salt: they're really just better known, fairly 'generic' representatives of groups represented by these Wealden taxa, air-dropped into a Wealden setting. Becklespinax is obviously modelled closely on Concavenator, as they seem to be pretty closely related and have a similar taste in dorsal ornamentation. I gave Becklespinax a more vertical anterior sail margin however, as indicated by the fossil. There's an article waiting to be written on palaeoart like this - should we even bother 'reconstructing' poorly known scenes and species? I clearly think we should, but we'll have to discuss the reasons why another time. 

I'm just now realising that there's a lot of confrontation in these images. Come back soon for a more placid, relaxed set of pictures in part 2...
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