Aside from dinosaurs, pterosaurs, mammoths, and ’saber-toothed cats’, few groups of ancient fauna can claim strong international fan bases like the various extinct marine reptiles of the world can. You can argue that it stems from the age-old mythology of sea-serpents or that it merely extends from the human fear of the ocean’s depths, but you simply can’t deny the universal appeal of these aquatic beasties. However, as with nearly any paleontological bestiary, nothing sells interest to the general public quite like an intimidating animal of a bygone age: and with all due respect to the plesiosauria, icthyosauria, and thalattosauria (along with many others), no collection of marine reptiles proves to be quite as terrifying to imagine alive as the mosasauridae. (To get an idea of just how monstrous some of these things were, do go here).
Yet every congregation of Goliaths is sure to have its David, and to the mosasaur family, ‘David’ is known as Carinodens sp, a ‘pint-sized’ species of the Netherlands.
Carinodens reconstruction, courtesy of 'oceansofkansas.com'.
At 3.5 meters in length, it’s safe to say that were any of us to find ourselves in the company of Carinodens during a late Cretaceous swim, we’d hesitate before referring to the creature as a ‘dwarf’ of any kind. Yet when one considers the fact that certain mosasaurs may have reached 15 meters from nose-tip to tail-tip, the animal’s miniscule distinction seems appropriate.
As usual, before we can fully appreciate the eccentricities of Carinodens itself, an introduction to the seagoing critter’s phylogeny is required.
Carinodens jaw fragment.
The beast belongs to the mosasaurinae subfamily which, according to D.A. Russel in “Systematics and morphology of American mosasaurs” is defined by the following features:
“Small rostrum present or absent anterior [('in front of')] to premaxillary teeth. Fourteen or more teeth present in dentary and maxilla. Cranial nerves X, XI, and XII leave lateral wall of opisthotic through two foramina [('openings')]. No canal or groove in floor of basioccipital or basisphenoid for basilar artery. Suprastapedial process of quadrate distally expanded. Dorsal edge of surangular thin lamina of bone rising anteriorly to posterior surface of coronoid…At least 31, usually 42–45 presacral vertebrae [(meaning 'those before the hip region')]present. Length of presacral series exceeds that of postsacral, neural spines of posterior caudal vertebrae [('tail vertebrae')] elongated to form distinct fin. Appendicular elements [('those dealing with the arms and legs')] with smoothly finished articular surfaces, tarsus and carpus well ossified.”
More specifically, Carinodens is a member of the Globidensini tribe, the members of which are famous for their unorthodox dental arrangements.
Carinodens' larger relative, Globidens. Courtesy of 'oceansofkansas.com'
Traditional reconstructions have overwhelmingly depicted globidansine mosasaurs as shell-crushing oyster eaters, although it’s been suggested that cephalopods and arthropods may have been on the menu as well. In 2005, the question of what precisely Carinodens and its relatives ate was visited by the Maastricht Museum of Natural History’s A.S. Schulp, who utilized the discovery of a recently-discovered group of material to create a ‘mechanical mosasaur’ which was designed to crush various marine animals between its jaws. The experiment revealed that
“a biomechanical model of the bite force of Carinodens applied to a mechanical jaw model provides a constraint on the possible prey items this mosasaur could have processed. Echinoids, smaller bivalves, and gastropods are considered to have been likely prey items. Carinodens was probably less successful in crushing larger bivalves such as scallops and oysters which exceeded 100 mm in size. Particularly rounded gastropods, such as winkles, may not have provided sufficient grip to be crushed… The fact that the dentition of Carinodens was well adapted for crushing hard-shelled prey items does not imply that it did not eat softer food. Animals such as shrimp are quite easily processed, so there is no reason to exclude such animals a priori from the menu.”
I realize that it’s been well over a month since my last ‘Weekly’ Wonders installment. So, to compensate for this regrettable trend of inactivity, I’ve decided to initiate a ‘week of wonders’: every day of this work-week will feature a brand new article of ‘Weekly Wonders’ design. Suggestions for specific critters to be highlighted will be considered.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll readily say it again: amphibians have had a fascinating, though somewhat under-studied, evolutionary history which has produced a series of genuine odd-balls that have, for innumerable generations, inspired the emergence of nearly every emotion imaginable, including awe, confusion, and even fear. The sight of the latter feeling in this context may seem incredibly odd, for when one grows up in the company of Kermit the frog and “The Wind in the Willows”, imagining a terrifying amphibian suddenly becomes a tall order.
But in spite of our synthetic biases, a number of prehistoric amphibians (including everyone’s favorite (‘flat frogs’) were in fact equipped with truly ferocious-looking dental arrangements. But arguably no amphibian of any era displays a more intimidating set of chompers than Anthracosaurus russeli: a massive, eel-like predator of the Carboniferous.
Anthracosaurus cranial reconstruction.
Anthracosaurus, incredibly enough, hails from the anthracosauria order the members of which, according to Jennifer A. Clack in her book “Gaining Ground: The Origin And Evolution Of Tetrapods”,:
“are characterized by contact between the tabular and parietal bones in the skull table in combination with the presence of an intertemporal (a primitive character), a closed palate with small or no vacuities [('holes')]in the midline, and often a skull table that is separated from the cheek plates by a noninterdigitating suture. [(connection points between bones that don't interlock like clasped hands)].
Anthracosaurus skull reconstruction (the largest image is in aerial view)
Additionally, the anthracosauria is an incredibly diverse group, containing the problematic seymouriamorpha, the intriguing diadectamorpha (which produced some of the planet’s earliest known terrestrial herbivorous vertebrates), the bizarre gephyrostegida, and the generally ferocious-looking members of the embolomeri. Anthracosaurus itself is allied with the latter group, which largely consisted of crocodile-like piscivores whose remains have been unearthed in both the U.K. and eastern U.S. and sports such genera as Pholiderpeton, and Archeria.
“Skull broadly triangular with large postero-lateral expansions [('widened ridgstemming from the skull's rear and sides')]… orbits very small, subtriangular, approximated, and situated in the hinder third of the skull…. Premaxillary and maxillary teeth few, unequal, and forming an irregular series; one large palatine tusk near the posterior nares [('the rear of the nasal openings')], and the others further back; mandibular teeth irregular [('the teeth on the lower jaw are relatively uneven in size and shape')]; pterygoids apparently carrying a number of denticles. Crowns of teeth ridged, conical, with a transversely oval section at the base, and laterally compressed [('flattened from side to side')] and curved near the summit… Cranial sculpture pitted and very sparsely distributed. Intercentra apparently absent in vertebral column.”
The legendary evolutionary biologist and anatomist Thomas “Darwin’s Bulldog” Huxley first described Anthracosaurus in 1863, giving it the Greek name of ‘coal lizard’ after its geological affiliations.
May the fossil record continue to enchant us all!
UPDATE: For a brief discussion of the relationship that exists between paleo-amphibians and modern amniotes, please check the comments section.
Long-time readers of ‘The Theatrical Tanystropheus’ will know that I’m greatly interested in improving the communication of science to the public. Thus, it should come as no surprise that I greatly admire the late Cornell astronomer and science popularizer Carl Sagan. Lately, I’ve rediscovered the following video, which creates an almost immaculate sensation of awe and humility that never fails to produce a tear:
Recently, however, I’ve also taken to watching the lectures and discussions of AMNH astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson (who, incidentally, was very nearly a student of Sagan’s): another highly effective science communicator. While Tyson can’t compete with Sagan in terms of eloquence and poetry, he makes up for it with his relatable personality and excellent sense of humor even in the midst of controversial subjects as displayed here:
After watching three or four of Dr. Tyson’s videos, his stage presence and compelling arguments lead me to list nearly all of them in the ‘favorites’ section on my YouTube channel page. Having done so, I began to consider another academic who is also frequently cited as a science popularizer: Richard Dawkins. Yet anyone reasonably familiar with the man’s work will almost instantly realize that Dawkins is far less frequently embraced by the general public than either of these astronomers.
But why? Dawkins is just as articulate as Sagan ever was, but when asked to compare his work to Sagan’s or Tyson’s, nearly every non-scientist I’ve met expresses their preference for the latter two.
In addition to Sagan, Tyson, and Dawkins, the list of recent and modern science popularizers contains (among many others) the equally-outspoken PZ Meyers, the University College-London’s Steve Jones, the late and incomparably articulate Stephen Jay Gould, the iconic Stephen Hawking, and the frequently-televised naturalist David Attenborough . Yet whenever I expose my relatively non-scientific friends to their various works, only Sagan, Tyson, Hawking, Gould, and Attenborough are commonly recognized as ‘persuasive’. So what are these men getting right that everyone else is getting wrong?
1. They Don’t Shy Away From The Arts, Culture And The Humanities.
It never ceases to amaze me how many science students, instructors, professors, and teachers utterly loathe the arts and social sciences; a paradox I’ve previously discussed here. I’ve always felt that science and the humanities can learn a great deal from each other and are mutually beneficial to an enormous degree. For instance, would anyone care to guess how many hundreds of paleontologists, geologists, biologists, and naturalists were inspired by the artwork of Charles R. Knight and the novels of Michael Chrichton? Yet the extreme distaste many scientists harbor for these very fields is so well known that it’s been discussed on the popular (and excellent) sitcom ‘The Big Bang Theory’ in which Sheldon has made such assertions as ‘the social sciences are largely hokum’ and has been indefensibly dismissive of a former love interest of his room-mate because her PhD was in literature.
There are exceptions to this rule of course, the most notable of which is none other than Sagan himself who, according to many of his friends and relatives, expressed an enthusiasm for mythology and prose from an early age. This passion grows obvious when watching reruns of ‘Cosmos’ as shown in his introduction to the library of Alexandria and utilizes the discussion to reveal just how vast the gaps in our knowledge could really be:
Furthermore, he would often take the time to point out constellations and their surrounding legends when directing his audience towards the heavens.
Why?
Because even though they’re scientifically useless, most people find such things fascinating!!
I used to work at Massawepie Scout Camps near Tupper Lake, New York every summer as an instructor whose speciality lay in teaching ‘Reptile and Amphibian Studies’ merit badge at the ecology lodge. Though the badge was often identified as one of the most challenging offered by the camp, I learned that I could make the material much more understandable by finding something which the students could relate to, which frequently took the form of the arts. A lecture concerning how certain salamanders can regrow limbs (and parts of their heads in some cases) was made easier by first giving a brief review of Hercules’ legendary conflict with the Hydra. I suspect this was due to the fact that since most of the students found Greek mythology interesting, I was able to build a springboard from fantasy to reality and in so doing, maintain their interest by exposing them to several fascinating intricacies of nature grounded literally in our own backyards.
This is hardly a novel approach. Several physics professors nationwide teach an introductory class entitled something along the lines of “The Physics Of Sports”. Even more remarkably, the University of Minnesota’s James Kakalios has acquired astronomical success with his popular course entitled “Everything I Need To Know About Physics I Learned By Reading Comic Books” and his book based thereon, “The Physics Of Superheroes”. In the volume’s introduction, Kakalios makes the following observation:
“The real world is a complicated place. In order to provide illustrations in a physics lesson that emphasize only a single concept… over the decades teachers have developed an arsenal of overly stylized scenarios involving projectile motion, weights on pulleys, or oscillating masses on springs. These situations seem so artificial that students inevitably lament ‘When am I ever going to use this stuff in my real life?’
One trick I’ve hit upon in teaching physics involves using examples culled from superhero comic books that correctly illustrate various applications of physics principles. Interestingly enough, whenever I cite examples from superhero comic books in a lecture, my students never wonder when they will use this information in ‘real life.’”
2. They Explain WHY Things Are Fascinating.
Recently, I re-watched one of my favorite films to date: Pixar’s ‘The Incredibles’. After the movie, I perused the special features when I came upon a segment which focused on the personal story of historian and author Sarah Vowell’s (the voice of ‘Violet’) involvement. In it, she discussed her frustration with the fact that her longtime interest in Abraham Lincoln has rarely been greeted with enthusiasm by her peers and expressed relief in participating in the movie when she discovered she didn’t have to convince everybody that it was interesting.
Throughout my life, I’ve experienced an identical predicament when attempting to invoke ardor for the subject of paleontology in my friends, family and associates who have found such things as sports, shoes, cars, cheeseburgers, and Japanese animation far more captivating. I’m no gambler, but I think it’s fairly safe to say that most life-long science enthusiasts can relate.
I simply cannot ignore the feeling that were these individuals to fully understand the significance of a 215,000,000-year old phytosaur skull, they’d find it at least as interesting as a happy meal. The biological sciences are just as humbling as their astronomical counterparts, yet when people look at a frog or a tree, they usually aren’t nearly as awestruck as they are when gazing upon the stars. By every right, they should be: the science is there.
To exemplify this, I shall call upon the late, great Stephen Jay Gould who presented this musing back in 1980:
“I think that the fascination so many people feel for evolutionary theory resides in three of its properties. First, it is, in its current state of development, sufficiently firm to provide satisfaction and confidence, yet fruitfully undeveloped enough to provide a treasure trove of mysteries. Second, it stands in the middle in a continuum stretching from sciences that deal in timeless, qualitative generality to those that work directly with the singularities of history. Thus, it provides a home for all styles and propensities, from those who seek the purity of abstraction (the laws of population growth and the structure of DNA) to those who revel in the messiness of irreducible particularity (what, if anything, did Tyrannosaurus do with its puny front legs anyway?). Third, it touches all of our lives; for how can we be indifferent to the great questions of genealogy: where did we come from and what does it all mean? And then, of course, there are all those organisms: more than a million described species, from bacterium to the blue whale -with one hell of a lot of beetles in between- each with its own beauty, each with its own story to tell.”
3. They Never Fail To Discuss The Philosophical Implications Of Their Disciplines.
Once again, I must turn to an astronomer to exemplify this idea by displaying the following video of Neil Degrasse Tyson discussing the odds of discovering technologically-advanced extraterrestrials:
To quote Daniel Dennett, “There is no such thing as philosophy-free science, there is only science whose philosophical baggage is taken on board without examination.”
4. They Avoid Acquiring Reputations As Militant Atheists.
Okay, this is doubtlessly going to be my most controversial observation, but I cannot avoid mentioning a very real, very destructive elephant in the room here: individuals who attempt to establish themselves as both vociferous atheists and effective science communicators. As far as I’m concerned, a single person cannot be both.
The obvious example here is Richard Dawkins. Honestly, I feel saddened when observing the plight of the Oxford professor because, truth be told, he really is an exceptional communicator of complex scientific principles. Case in point is “The Selfish Gene”, his first book and, scientifically, his most influential. I’ve just recently completed the thirtieth anniversary edition of this excellent volume and found it to be a truly enjoyable read: a fact which was strongly assisted by its accessible prose and evocative arguments.
Yet most people know Dawkins as the author of another, more controversial book: “The God Delusion”.
It’s no secret that Carl Sagan was arguably just as critical of organized religion, as shown in “The Demon-Haunted World” among other publications. So why do most people familiar with both men cite Dawkins as the militant atheist rather than Sagan?
Because Sagan never launched a nation-wide campaign to encourage atheists to exit their closets. Sagan didn’t accuse everyone espousing theistic beliefs as being ‘delusional’ in an international best-seller. And I doubt that Sagan would have willingly assisted a movement to replace the word ‘atheists’ with ‘brights’.
As a freethinker, I fully acknowledge that the need to encourage public acceptance of atheism is a valid concern, but I can’t help but worry that such aggressive atheistic scientists ultimately harm the scientific cause more than they assist it. The bottom line is this: regardless of how eloquent and thought provoking Dawkins is, even moderately-religious people will fail to acknowledge any of his scientific points for their minds prevent them from seeing in him anything other than a militant atheist.
Again, this is not to say that secular scientists should wholeheartedly embrace traditional religions, but rather those who hope to educate the public should avoid combating them so aggressively.
“I think that the fascination so many people feel for evolutionary theory resides in three of its properties. First, it is, in its current state of development, sufficiently firm to provide satisfaction and confidence, yet fruitfully undeveloped enough to provide a treasure trove of mysteries. Second, it stands in the middle in a continuum stretching from sciences that deal in timeless, quantitative generality to those that work directly with the singularities of history. Thus, it provides a home for all styles and propensities, from those who seek the purity of abstraction (the laws of population growth and the structure of DNA) to those who revel in the messiness of irreducible particularity (what, if anything, did Tyrannosaurus do with its puny front legs anyway?). Third, it touches all our lives; for how can we be indifferent to the great questions of genealogy: where did we come from and what does it all mean? and then, of course, there are all those organisms: more than a million described species, from bacterium to blue whale, with one hell of a lot of beetles in between—each with its own beauty, and each with a story to tell.”
Also, consider the following discussion between Tyson and Dawkins (WARNING! Dawkins says a very bad, but amusing, word!)
Which school of thought do you think is more effective?
Please feel free to add your comments below!
May the fossil record (and the host of disciplines which seek to unravel the mysteries of our universe and everything in it)continue to enchant us all!
I’d just like to remind everyone that my instructor and world-known phytosaur expert Dr. Axel Hungerbuehler has agreed to do a Q&A session on his favorite archosaurs via this humble corner of the web. If anyone would like to submit questions about these frequently-neglected Triassic critters, please do so via commenting on this post or e-mailing yours truly at triassictype@aol.com
The interview will be posted right here next week (probably around Tuesday or Wednesday).
May the fossil record continue to enchant us all!
UPDATE: I realize that thus far this semester, I’ve been less than consistent with my posting frequency, for which I sincerely apologize. A combination of paleo research, extracurricular activities, and a difficult academic schedule has prevented me from updating it as often as I used to. With regards to this interview: it WILL happen, but neither the good doctor nor myself are currently capable of executing the project due to the advent of midterms week. I’ll be sure to keep everyone posted with regards to its progress in the future but for now, all I can do is humbly ask your forgiveness in its postponement.
(The title of this post is shared by that of a song from ‘The Pajama Game’ which I’ve recently seen a brilliant community production of back in Rochester last month)
I fully realize that it’s been a considerable amount of time since I’ve updated ‘The Theatrical Tanystropheus’. This is sadly the result of my recent inability to work on it due to the commencement of this semester’s first full week, but rest assured, I plan to supply everyone with a few new posts shortly, which brings me to my next point…
I’ve decided that there’s not enough ‘theatricality’ in this blog, despite its name. As I struggled to find a way to confront this situation, it suddenly hit me: if Mark Witton can use the names and/or assorted lyrical selections of Pink Floyd songs to head some of his posts, I can do the same with show tunes. The name of each post will be explained very briefly after my traditional opening line as I’ve done above (however, this won’t affect my ‘Weekly Wonders’ posts or any others for which I don’t feel it would be appropriate). You may say, ‘Well that’s not very scientific, is it, Mark?” No, perhaps not; just call it artistic licence.
It’s only the second day of school here at Mesalands, and I’m still adjusting to my new schedule, which calls for three entirely self-directed classes among other things. Unfortunately, this means that I’ll be unable to provide a ‘Wednesday Wonder’ this week, which brings me to another point: my course-load this time around makes it easier for me to post the column on Thursday, so it’ll be coming a day later and re-named ‘Weekly Wonders’ from now on. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.
I’ve been working rather extensively in the field recently and as such have been unable to post a ‘Wednesday Wonder’ on time this week. I’ll most likely upload it on Friday or Saturday and apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.
May the fossil record continue to enchant us all!
UPDATE: I must admit that I never expected to amass such an enormous response for this post from my readers! Unfortunately, since I’ll be flying back to Rochester shortly, it doesn’t look like I can add any posts until next week. However, to create a little suspense, here is a list of critters I hope to feature in the ‘Wednesday Wonders’ column at some point in the future: Thalattosaurus,Titanotylopus, Platyhystrix, and Embolotherium (as per Zach’s request in the comments section). Please note that while I find all of these beasts fascinating, there is no guarantee that I’ll be able to write articles for them, but I shall most assuredly try.
I apologize for neglecting to post a ‘Wednesday Wonder’ this week (again). I’ve been teaching a children’s dinosaur class at the museum and have been unable to work on very much else this week. I’ll resume normal posting come this weekend.
However, to create a little suspense, here is a list of critters I hope to feature in the ‘Wednesday Wonders’ column at some point in the future: Thalattosaurus, Titanotylopus, Platyhystrix, and Embolotherium (as per Zach’s request in the comments section). Please note that while I find all of these beasts fascinating, there is no guarantee that I’ll be able to write articles for them, but I shall most assuredly try.