Showing posts with label pterosaur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pterosaur. Show all posts

Sunday, 23 December 2018

No, Cretaceous sharks did not leap from water to eat flying pterosaurs

How the heavy hitters covered Hone et al. 2018: a short, open-access and easy-to-read paper about a shark tooth preserved with Pteranodon. The Sun gets bonus stupid points for making their own graphic. 
Sigh.

Major news outlets have been reporting this week that a new study evidences prehistoric sharks predating pterosaurs by leaping from the water to snatch them in mid-air. It would be an awesome discovery, if it were true. In reality, these headlines are nothing but a construct by journalists based on a misread palaeoart image, ignorance of some basic facts of animal biology, and lazy science reporting. I'm particularly angry because the study being misreported, and the art being misread, stems from a paper that I recently published with with my friends and colleagues Dave Hone and Mike Habib (Hone et al. 2018). The paper is in PeerJ, and is thus open-access. Anyone - including our dear media - can fact check what we have to say without hitting a paywall.

The nature of modern news is that stories can spread like wildfire, and it's effectively impossible to correct major gaffes once a story gains momentum. With that in mind, the best I can do is outline here what our new paper actually says, what our artwork actually shows, and hope that readers link to this post wherever they see this ridiculous press story being shared. It must be said that a number our outlets are reporting the story more accurately, but enough have mangled our findings that I feel I need to do something. I genuinely care about the accurate conveyance of science, and I've found this distortion of our work and my painting very distressing.

What our paper actually says

OK, first up: a summary of our paper. Mike, Dave and I have documented a series of neck vertebrae from the famous Late Cretaceous pterosaur Pteranodon associated with the tooth of a lamniform shark, Cretoxyrhina mantelli. The vertebrae and their teeth were found in 1965 but our records about their discovery are confused and we don't know whether they were part of a larger discovery of bones, or just a few isolated remains. There are hints that they may have been part of a more impressive skeleton, but it's pretty hard to tell. In any case, today this string of vertebrae is on display at the Los Angeles County Museum as part of a composite skeleton.

Vertebrae are not diagnostic for different Pteranodon species so we refrain from identifying the pterosaur beyond Pteranodon sp. The specimen was found in Niobrara Formation rocks that traditionally yield P. longiceps however, and this is probably the likely species identity- we just can't verify it*. The identification of the shark is better constrained as the tooth is a perfect match for C. mantelli. Indeed, we can even tell which part of the mouth it came from thanks to Cretoxyrhina mantelli being exceptionally well known: even complete skulls and skeletons have been found. This allows us to roughly gauge the size of the Cretoxyrhina as c. 2.5 m long, which makes it a small individual compared to the 6-7 m specimens known from other remains. Our Pteranodon was on the small size as well at c. 5 m across the wings. This is within the upper size range of Pteranodon fossils, but still 1-2 m off the full wingspread of this species.

*If anyone's wondering, yes, we follow the traditional Bennettian concept of Pteranodon taxonomy. It was actually writing the manuscript for this paper that prompted my blog post on Pteranodon taxonomy.

Pteranodon sp. specimen LACM 50926 as mounted as part of a composite skeleton in the Los Angeles County Museum, and in more detail with their hitchhiking Cretoxyrhina mantelli tooth (arrowed). Scale bar is 50 mm. From Hone et al. 2018.
The Cretoxyrhina tooth does not actually penetrate the pterosaur bone, but is wedged beneath a vertebral process in a complex, intimate manner. We assume this evidences the shark biting into the pterosaur neck and shedding a tooth into its soft-tissues. An alternative - that the specimens became associated through actions of currents or storms - is less plausible given the strange position of the tooth, its tightness to the specimen, as well as the gentle, low-energy marine conditions of the Niobrara Formation.

But what sort of circumstances brought these animals together? It's here that our questions go beyond what the fossils can tell us. There's only so much a single tooth and string of vertebrae can objectively reveal about an ancient animal interaction, and we conclude that either a predatory and scavenging act could have produced the association - there's just no way to tell. While a scavenging story explains itself (short version: pterosaur dies over water; shark gets a meal), we explored how a predatory scenario may have played out given the known fish-eating habits of Pteranodon and hypotheses that this pterosaur regularly dived or swam to catch its prey (e.g. Bennett 2001; Hone and Henderson 2014; Witton 2013, 2018). Swimming pterosaurs are a new idea to many but substantiated by several lines of evidence, including swimming tracks, modelling of their aquatic launch strategy, and studies of their floating capability (Lockley et al. 2003; Habib and Cunningham 2010; Hone and Henderson 2014). We propose that if Pteranodon was a regular swimmer it would be vulnerable to sharks and other large predators, and its flight muscles would surely be a decent meal for many carnivores. Pterosaurs were probably pretty sinewy across their limbs, but there'd be some sizeable steaks to carve from their shoulders and chests. As big, powerful predators, it seems entirely plausible that even a half-size Cretoxyrhina would be capable of subduing a large Pteranodon, assuming they could catch one.

And that is as far as we go in our paper - it's pretty conservative stuff. You can read another summary of the paper at Dave Hone's Archosaur Musings.

The illustration

Rocket shark eats flying pterosaur? No. Artwork of a small Cretoxyrhina mantelli attacking a group of floating Pteranondon longiceps, erupting from the sea with one in its jaws. Note the other swimming pterosaurs in this picture - it's almost like pterosaurs weren't always flying, or something. From Hone et al. 2018.
Mike, Dave and I are palaeoart fans and we all - perhaps myself especially - enjoy well-illustrated papers, so we decided to include a reconstruction of Cretoxyrhina vs. Pteranodon in our paper (above). Having recently drawn an image of Pteranodon being hounded by another Cretaceous shark, Squalicorax, at the water surface, I wanted to do something different with this illustration and decided on a more exciting breaching scene: a shark leaping from the water with a Pteranodon in its mouth. Anyone who's watched even a few wildlife documentaries will know this behaviour is far from speculative: it's a widely-filmed, photographed and documented behaviour of South African white sharks (see Planet Earth excerpt from BBC Earth, below). These sharks strike floating prey with such speed that they leap entirely from the water. It's very dramatic, very awesome and seemed like great inspiration for a palaeoartwork. And sure, we have no idea that Cretoxyrhina did this, but a breaching attack is no more or less speculative than any other means of depicting a shark tooth lodging in a Pteranodon neck. I won't bore you with some additional practical factors that influenced the composition (in short, this image is being featured in an upcoming book where I have some firm ideas about visual narrative, and this strongly influenced choices of posture and colour).

In my mind, shark breaching is a widely known, instantly recognisable behaviour that shouldn't be foreign to folks writing science articles. It's routinely covered in major documentary programmes like Planet Earth, as shown here in this YouTube clip from BBC Earth. It's weird to me that folks are assuming my artwork has to be something more awesome than this, just because a pterosaur is involved.

A number of swimming and water-launching pterosaurs were added in the background of the image to make it clear that the Pteranodon was caught from a floating position. In my mind, the image shows a flock of pterosaurs busying themselves in the sea before Cretoxyrhina crashes their party - you can invent your own reasons for all the Pteranodon milling about. Maybe they're foraging, maybe they're congregating for another reason - it doesn't matter too much, what matters is that the sea has six or so Pteranodon either floating or launching from the water. Also note that water is shedding from the main pterosaur's wings, as if it's just left the water along with the shark. I carefully referenced how much water should be flying about using footage and photos of breaching sharks around the peak of their arcs: we often overdo water dynamics in palaeoart, and I was keen to make this image grounded in spite of its spectacular action.

So what's gone wrong?

What we've ended up with, then, is a pretty simple, conservative paper with an illustration that is pretty bleeding edge in terms of pterosaur science (flying reptiles as swimmers) and radical in terms of shark behaviour (breaching). But the two are entirely compatible with one another and the image is appropriately grounded in zoology and palaeontology. It looks extreme, but it's not ridiculous compared to what happens in modern natural history.

Unfortunately, this broader face of our project has been neglected in the media. Instead, our artwork - or rather a knee-jerk, lunkhead interpretation of it - has become the media story and we now have 'science-endorsed' headlines stating that sharks shot out of the water to grab pterosaurs (or even 'flying dinosaurs' in several articles) when they soared overhead. As I've outlined here, this is entirely false, and not representative of our ideas at all. Any hope that our paper could be used to broadly communicate some cool ideas about pterosaur ecology, the role of sharks as important predators throughout the Mesozoic, or even the simple fact that pterosaurs could likely swim has been lost behind ridiculous headlines based on erroneous readings of my picture.

So that's basically that - this is essentially a tale of how quickly false information can spread when it's attached to a pretty image, and why we shouldn't believe everything we read. Perhaps there's a lesson here in the power of imagery, and I am certainly now wondering if I erred in my reconstruction being too complex (to my defence, I did not contribute to the PR campaign for this and did not get the opportunity to sign off on an appropriate description for the picture). Perhaps we're looking at the reality of naive audiences assuming that anything to do with sharks or prehistoric creatures must automatically be the most awesome, badass thing. Maybe I erred in my assumption that people would be familiar with the basics of breaching shark behaviour.

But what this hits home hardest for me is the reality of science reporting in our digital, content-fuelled age. Anyone who led with the stupid shark vs. flying pterosaur headline went nowhere near our actual paper to check what we said, even though it was literally just a link click away. They simply parroted one another to make sure their outlets have the same stories as everyone else. Only a few thought to double check what our conclusions were, and I find that distressing. Remember folks, these are the same guys who're reporting news about far more important things than pterosaurs: vaccinations, climate change, health and environmental issues, and so on: these pterosaur-devouring rocket sharks are stark reminders of how they work. If you've seen accurately reported examples of this story (and they do exist) then add those news services to your bookmarks: they are rare examples of media outlets that aren't jumping our shark.

If understanding pterosaur ecology through fossil associations is of interest, be sure to check out this series of three blog posts: part 1, part 2, and part 3.

Enjoy monthly insights into palaeoart, fossil animal biology and occasional reviews of palaeo media? Support this blog for $1 a month and get free stuff!

This blog is sponsored through Patreon, the site where you can help online content creators make a living. If you enjoy my content, please consider donating $1 a month to help fund my work. $1 might seem a meaningless amount, but if every reader pitched that amount I could work on these articles and their artwork full time. In return, you'll get access to my exclusive Patreon content: regular updates on research papers, books and paintings, including numerous advance previews of two palaeoart-heavy books (one of which is the first ever comprehensive guide to palaeoart processes). Plus, you get free stuff - prints, high quality images for printing, books, competitions - as my way of thanking you for your support. As always, huge thanks to everyone who already sponsors my work!

References

  • Bennett, S. C. (2001). The Osteology and Functional Morphology of the Late Cretaceous Pterosaur Pteranodon Part II. Size and Functional Morphology. Palaeontographica Abteilung A, 113-153.
  • Habib, M. B., & Cunningham, J. (2010). Capacity for water launch in Anhanguera and Quetzalcoatlus. Acta Geoscientica Sinica, 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.
  • Hone, D. W., Witton, M. P., & Habib, M. B. (2018). Evidence for the Cretaceous shark Cretoxyrhina mantelli feeding on the pterosaur Pteranodon from the Niobrara Formation. PeerJ, 6, e6031.
  • Lockley, M. G., & Wright, J. L. (2003). Pterosaur swim tracks and other ichnological evidence of behaviour and ecology. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 217(1), 297-313.
  • Witton, M. P. (2013). Pterosaurs: natural history, evolution, anatomy. Princeton University Press.
  • Witton, M. P. (2018). Pterosaurs in Mesozoic food webs: a review of fossil evidence. Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 455(1), 7-23.

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

The appearance and lifestyle of Thalassodromeus sethi, supercrested pterosaur

Thalassodromeus sethi, a juvenile Mirischia asymmetrica, and half a spinosaurid hang out in Cretaceous Brazil. The spinosaurid wants to go home.
One of my favourite pterosaurs is the Brazilian thalassodromid Thalassodromeus sethi: a large (4-5 m wingspan) Cretaceous azhdarchoid known only from a broken skull and cranial fragments of disputed affinity (Kellner and Campos 2002; Veldmeijer et al. 2005; Martill and Naish 2006). Characterised by an especially large bony cranial crest, toothless jaws and a robust skull construction, Thalassodromeus gained fame (and it's name, which translates to 'sea runner') from a presumed habit of skim-feeding. Long-time readers or pterosaur aficionados will know that multiple studies have suggested pterosaurian skim-feeding was unlikely on anatomical grounds (we discussed this most recently here and here) and was especially improbable for large species on account of the huge energy demands of ploughing large, blunt jaws through water (e.g. Humphries et al. 2007). A lack of skim-feeding habits does not make Thalassodromeus any less interesting however: it's a large, charismatic animal with a heavy dose of pterosaur weirdness, so there's still plenty to like. I recently had reason to overhaul the Thalassodromeus painting from my 2013 book (above) and took the opportunity to revisit my understanding of this animal's anatomy. The process had me fall for Thalassodromeus' cresty charms all over again, and I've taken this as impetus to share the love here.

The continuing puzzle of the Thalassodromeus skull

Thalassodromeus sethi skull elements as figured in Witton (2013). Note how the holotype skull is a giant jigsaw with well- and ill-fitting elements. The little (drawn) jaw to the left is no longer referred to Thalassodromeus, but is now the holotype of the dsungaripterid Banguela oberlii. This photo composite was created using photographs provided by the excellent Andre Veldmeijer and Erno Endenburg. 
The holotype skull of Thalassodromeus is pretty well preserved as pterosaur fossils go, but isn't quite as exceptional as it first appears (above). Though three dimensionally preserved and uncrushed, it's suffered damage in several areas and is broken into multiple pieces, some of which are ill-fitting with the rest of the skull or are missing entirely. It's a jigsaw puzzle which is complete enough to get the general picture of the skull shape, but some large areas remain open to interpretation. Pterosaur literature records that different bits of this specimen were once scattered across American research institutions and we have to hope that some of the last missing elements are still in a drawer somewhere, waiting to be reunited with the rest of the skull.

That the shape of the Thalassodromeus skull is somewhat ambiguous is evident by our history of T. sethi skull reconstructions (below). The first reconstruction - published in Kellner and Campos (2002) - is a little odd in that it shows a downturned, irregular upper jaw with a straight mandible. It also features 'classic' structures that we've come to know and love in this species: that badass 'V'-shaped chunk missing out of the back of the crest, a boss-like structure on the upper jaw, and a partly hooked mandibular tip. This reconstruction has always looked a little odd to me because I'm not sure how the animal is meant to close its mouth. A second reconstruction, which I presented in my 2013 book, was similar to the first except for showing both jaws as straight, without a downturned upper jaw. My logic was that Thalassodromeus should look something like the better known thalassodromid Tupuxuara, which has entirely straight jaws. Later, Headden and Campos (2015) presented a third interpretation, where the mandible was bent down at the base of the mandibular symphysis. Jaime Headden's (as far as I know unpublished) skull reconstruction hints at further differences from previous reconstructions, including a lack of that cool 'V' notch in the back of the crest.

Select T. sethi skull reconstructions, with my latest take at the bottom right. All three agree on some aspects of basic morphology, but there's not quite enough data to eliminate some possibilities of jaw and crest shape. Note that the 2017 skull outline is pretty conservative - the crest may have been longer and taller.
Which of these, if any, is correct? We await a comprehensive description of the skull to fully augment our understanding of T. sethi anatomy but, based on published information, it's likely that some of our earlier interpretations were erroneous. The gnarly crest shape drawn by Kellner and Campos (2002) probably takes damaged margins and missing elements too literally - this includes that awesome-looking V-shaped notch at the end, which is likely just another chunk of missing crest (this is certainly reported by colleagues who've examined the skull first hand). There's also no obvious reason why the mandible should be restored with an upturned tip. This interpretation was at least partly fuelled by an upturned jaw tip once referred to Thalassodromeus (Veldmeijer et al. 2005), but this specimen has since been considered a new genus of dsunagripterid pterosaur (Headden and Campos 2015).

It's also looking possible that - as indicated by Headden and Campos (2015) - both sets of Thalassodromeus jaws were downturned. It's difficult to be confident about any jaw reconstruction in this animal because these regions are not well represented in the holotype skull, but preserved elements of the upper and lower jaw margins imply a subtle downturn at the base of the rostrum and mandibular symphysis (and no, this isn't an effect of distortion or damage). Either Thalassodromeus had some sort of wibbly jaw shape or else it had a downturned jaw similar to azhdarchoids such as Tapejaridae* and Caupedactylus**. Whether this is convergence or further evidence of a close relationship between thalassodromids and tapejarids depends on your take on azhdarchoid interrelationships - this is still an area of disagreement that would benefit from dedicated investigation.

*of which thalassodromids - or thalassodromines - may, or may not be, a subdivision of. Ah, pterosaur phylogeny...

**I'm as confident as I can be that Caupedactylus is synonymous with my own "Tupuxuara" deliradamus. I should really write this up one day...

But hey, evidence for facial tissues and life appearance!

Thalassodromeus has some interesting features which allow us to reconstruct some aspects of its facial anatomy in detail, even in lieu of soft-tissue preservation. The crest of Thalassodromeus is marked by very conspicuous neurovascular grooves which were linked to a thermoregulatory function by Kellner and Campos (2002). They look pretty near identical to the sorts of branching grooves you find under bird beaks however (below), and my suspicion is that they're not a specialisation for controlling body temperature but simply a correlate for a keratinous sheath (Hieronymus et al. 2009). Similar grooves are seen on crestless parts of pterosaur jaws (the holotype of Serradraco sagittirostris has some especially obvious ones, for instance - see Rigal et al. 2017) as well as under the keratinous horns and beaks of animals everywhere. We don't need to imagine a unique function for these grooves just because they're on a big pterosaur crest, they're a standard variant of tetrapod skull anatomy.

Branching neurovascular networks on the Thalassodromeus crest - this is the region above the eye and posterior end of the nasoantorbital fenestra. Note the conspicuous groove crossing across the photo - this is the boundary between the premaxilla and underlying skull bones. From Kellner and Campos (2002).
Keratinous sheaths can have sharp margins which leave signature textures on the underlying skull. Bony steps or 'lips' can mark the transition to another tissue type, or a groove may form where one sheath plate abuts another. Both are evident in bird species which have beaks composed of multiple plates instead of a single keratinous covering (below), and we can look for similar features in fossil skulls to make predictions about life appearance. In Thalassodromeus we see a deep groove running along the boundary between the large premaxillary bone (the bone which makes up the jaw tip and top region of the entire crest) and the frontoparietal region (the base of the crest from the eye region backwards). Correlates for keratinous sheaths occur on both sides of this groove, so there's a chance that the crest covering was a compound structure composed of two abutting sheaths rather than one continuous one. If so, we might have been able to see this join on the live animal, just as we see the joins on the beaks of certain birds.

Gannet (Morus bassanus) skull with keratinous sheaths removed. Note the branching neurovascular impressions and deep grooves that mark the position of keratinous sheaths - we would predict a compound beak from these textures if we only knew gannets from fossils.
Can we test this idea? We could chop up our super-rare Thalassodromeus specimens to see if  histological data matches the surface texture interpretation (it's not only bone surface texture which records epidermal types - see Hieronymus et al. 2009) but I'll wager that most folks don't want the Thalassodromeus holotype carved up any more than it already is. Happily, there are other lines of data that might help us out. The first is the presence of the crest groove itself. Pterosaur skulls are normally devoid of sutures between bones because, in adults, they fuse so solidly that all trace of the original bone outlines is obliterated. Thus, the presence of a conspicuous groove in a mature Thalassodromeus specimen indicates that something unusual was happening, and influence from facial tissues is a well-known phenomenon that could explain this feature.

Schematic take on thalassodromid crest growth, from Martill and Naish (2006). The crest doesn't begin fully formed in juveniles, with the premaxillae (dark shading) having to overgrow the rest of the skull. Fun fact: my first ever PR palaeoart, now 11 years old, was to publicise this study.

A second line of support stems from studies into thalassodromid crest growth (Martill and Naish 2006). The "upper" (or premaxillary) component of the thalassodromid crest does not cover the skull in juveniles: rather, it has to overgrow the skull as the animal ages (above and below). Keratin sheaths are difficult to modify once formed because they're thick and inert (Goss 2012), so it's likely that parts of the premaxillary sheaths formed in juveniles migrated with the bone over the skull, meeting their counterparts at the skull posterior in later life. If the sheaths couldn't join once they met because they couldn't be modified or resorbed, they probably continued to grow as a compound cover, explaining the retention of an obvious groove between the two crest-forming bones. I find this idea pretty neat. Features like grooves on beaks or crests are nuances of animal appearance that are mostly lost to time but are important to characterising the appearance of living species. The idea that Thalassodromeus (and probably thalassodromids) had this feature makes them that little bit more real. Painting the images for this post certainly felt a little more like painting an animal than illustrating a hypothesis, just because of this detail.

Thalassodromid crest growth and compound keratinous sheathing, modelled by T. sethi. Note how the juvenile has an obvious 'two part' crest composition, and that the front/upper part (the premaxilla) sits on top of the posterior (frontoparietal) elements. With enough time, they form the monster-sized crest we know from big thalassodromid specimens. See Martill and Naish (2006) for more details.

Skull mechanics and lifestyle

It would be remiss to write about Thalassodromeus without mentioning its robust skull construction. The skull is proportionally wide, has especially deep jaws, a partly sealed orbit region, and the mandibular symphysis has a robust 'teardrop' cross section instead some flimsy crest. Its robustness is especially obvious when compared to the skull of the otherwise similar Tupuxuara (below), which has more typically open and airy pterosaurian cranial architecture. Thalassodromeus thus has a skull which looks like it could take a little more punishment than that of an average pterosaur, and this correlates nicely with observations that the regions for jaw adductor muscles are expanded on both the skull and lower jaw (Witton 2013; Pêgas and Kellner 2015). It's unsurprising that foraging hypotheses for Thalassodromeus have favoured forceful feeding habits such as skim-feeding (Kellner and Campos 2002) or being a predator of small-to-medium animals in terrestrial settings (Witton 2013).

Tupuxuara leonardii skull and mandible - looking pretty slender compared to the star of this post.
The possibility of downturned jaws in Thalassodromeus becomes especially interesting in light of its robust skull. Long, curving bones are a biomechanical paradox because they're weaker in compressive loading than a straight equivalent. This is, in part, because applying loads directly to both ends of a curved bone induces bending stresses even though the bone is not being bent in a traditional fashion. This is why big, slow animals tend to have straighter limb bones than smaller ones: they benefit from the increased strength of straight shafts, and they load their limbs in compression virtually all the time. From this perspective, the curved jaw of Thalassodromeus might seem like a disadvantage, being weaker under compression than that of a straight jawed animal. If striking violently at prey head on, the straight jawed species might be less likely to go home with a broken jaw.

However, curved bones are superior to straight bones at handling unpredictable, dynamic stresses. Curvature introduces predictability to stress distribution throughout a bone shaft, so they behave more reliably under a variety of loading regimes, be it compression, bending or twisting. A bone which responds to stress in the same way no matter how you deform it is easier to manage behaviourally, and to optimise mechanically, than a straight bone, and loss of raw strength created by bone curvature can be compensated for by modifying cross sections, shaft diameters and internal reinforcement (Bertram and Biewner 1988). These attributes have not been ignored by evolution and, in fact, most animal limb bones are curved to some degree to take advantage of these effects (Bertram and Biewner 1988). The superior compressive performance of a straight bone may not be as advantageous as the reliability and potential all-round stress resistance of a curved variant so, in simple terms, if you're planning some crazy stunts with your long bones, you want curved bone shafts, not straight ones.

A curved jaw thus complements the strong skull and jaw muscles of Thalassodromeus. If Thalassodromeus used foraging mechanics which were forceful or violent - such as catching big or powerful prey types, or using its beak to batter or tear at other animals - a curved beak may have served it well. This jaw shape - assuming we've interpreted it correctly, remember - could be further evidence of foraging habits at the more explosive and exciting end of the pterosaur ecological spectrum. Exactly what Thalassodromeus did for a living remains unknown, but it's hard not to compare these cranial features with other ideas of robust, terrestrial azhdarchoid predators - maybe this 'large pterosaur predator' niche has a longer roster than we've traditionally thought.

Hypothesis B: spinosaurids were allergic to curved jaws. Hey, it could happen.
Thalassodromids and their azhdarchoid kin are exceptionally interesting animals and we could probably talk about them all day, but we'll have to stop there. Coming soon: pterosaurs from the other end of the pterodactyloid spectrum, or a return to the world of extinct mammals. Probably.

Enjoy monthly insights into palaeoart and fossil animal biology? Support this blog for $1 a month and get free stuff!

This blog is sponsored through Patreon, the site where you can help online content creators make a living. If you enjoy my content, please consider donating $1 a month to help fund my work. $1 might seem a meaningless amount, but if every reader pitched that amount I could work on these articles and their artwork full time. In return, you'll get access to my exclusive Patreon content: regular updates on research papers, books and paintings, including numerous advance previews of two palaeoart-heavy books (one of which is the first ever comprehensive guide to palaeoart processes). Plus, you get free stuff - prints, high quality images for printing, books, competitions - as my way of thanking you for your support. As always, huge thanks to everyone who already sponsors my work!

References

  • Bertram, J. E., & Biewener, A. A. (1988). Bone curvature: sacrificing strength for load predictability?. Journal of Theoretical Biology, 131(1), 75-92.
  • Headden, J. A., & Campos, H. B. (2015). An unusual edentulous pterosaur from the Early Cretaceous Romualdo Formation of Brazil. Historical Biology, 27(7), 815-826.
  • Hieronymus, T. L., Witmer, L. M., Tanke, D. H., & Currie, P. J. (2009). The facial integument of centrosaurine ceratopsids: morphological and histological correlates of novel skin structures. The Anatomical Record, 292(9), 1370-1396.
  • Humphries, S., Bonser, R. H., Witton, M. P., & Martill, D. M. (2007). Did pterosaurs feed by skimming? Physical modelling and anatomical evaluation of an unusual feeding method. PLoS Biology, 5(8), e204.
  • Goss, R. J. (2012). Deer antlers: regeneration, function and evolution. Academic Press. 
  • Kellner, A. W., & de Almeida Campos, D. (2002). The function of the cranial crest and jaws of a unique pterosaur from the Early Cretaceous of Brazil. Science, 297(5580), 389-392.
  • Martill, D. M., & Naish, D. (2006). Cranial crest development in the azhdarchoid pterosaur Tupuxuara, with a review of the genus and tapejarid monophyly. Palaeontology, 49(4), 925-941.
  • Pêgas, R. V., & Kellner, A. W. (2015). Preliminary mandibular myological reconstruction of Thalassodromeus sethi (Pterodactyloidea: Tapejaridae). Flugsaurier 2015 Portsmouth, abstracts, 47-48.
  • Rigal, S., Martill, D. M., & Sweetman, S. C. (2017). A new pterosaur specimen from the Upper Tunbridge Wells Sand Formation (Cretaceous, Valanginian) of southern England and a review of Lonchodectes sagittirostris (Owen 1874). Geological Society, London, Special Publications, 455, SP455-5.
  • Veldmeijer, A. J., Signore, M., & Meijer, H. J. (2005). Description of two pterosaur (Pterodactyloidea) mandibles from the lower Cretaceous Santana Formation, Brazil. Deinsea, 11(1), 67-86.
  • Witton, M. P. (2013). Pterosaurs: natural history, evolution, anatomy. Princeton University Press.

Friday, 18 August 2017

The convention of shrink-wrapping: thoughts for artists

Europasaurus holgeri - twice. These portraits are of the same animal using the same specimen and the same view, but one is restored with extreme shrink-wrapping (above) and the other has a more generous amount of facial tissue (below). But which one is more plausible, and can we even tell from fossil bones alone?
You can't move around palaeoart circles on the internet nowadays without someone being criticised for 'shrink-wrapping' their reconstruction. This refers to the convention of restoring extinct animals with minimised soft-tissues, allowing details of muscle layouts and major skeletal contours to be seen in allegedly healthy living animals. At its most extreme, this includes clearly visible ribs and vertebrae, tissues sunk into skull openings, ultra-prominent limb girdles and skinny, sinewy legs. We owe the term 'shrink-wrapping to sauropod expert and SV:POW author Mathew Wedel who, in a 2010 article, compared the contour-hugging soft-tissues of these restorations to items wrapped in tight plastic for transport.

Shrink-wrapping is a well known convention among those interested in palaeoart but is a relatively modern invention. Palaeoartists restored ancient animals with relatively bulky soft-tissues until the end of the 20th century to an extent where visible deep-tissue anatomy is genuinely exceptional in pre-modern palaeoart (a well known exception are ichthyosaur sclerotic rings, reflecting erroneous interpretation of these structures among early palaeontologists - see Buckland 1836). Shrink-wrapping became popular as conservative reconstruction approaches became dominant in the 1970s and went on to become a standard palaeoart convention soon after. Many, perhaps most, of the restorations produced by late 20th century artists employed shrink-wrapping and it remains conspicuous in artwork produced today. It has even spawned related traditions, such as tightly cropping fur and feathers to ensure animal shapes remain obvious, and has influenced approaches to restoring colour and skin texture, these elements being used to outline the topography of underlying bones. Famous shrink-wrappers include artists like Gregory S. Paul and Mark Hallett, who tend to be on the less dramatic side of the tradition, showing slight contours of the skull features alongside lean, though well-muscled, bodies and limbs. More extreme shrink-wrappers, like Ely Kish and William Stout, have works where shrink-wrapping is taken to a wholly unrealistic level. Gaping vacuities exist between neck vertebrae; rib cages and limb girdles bulge from the torsos; limbs are extremely thin and faces are lipless and gaunt. It’s difficult not to look at some of these works and not think of starving animals or even decaying remains: they do not look like healthy, virile beings.

William Stout's Quetzalcoatlus, posted at Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs, has to be the most shrink-wrapped being ever rendered in paleoart. If it had any less tissue we'd be looking at moulds of the internal organs.
We might assign three reasons for the popularity of shrink-wrapping. The first is that its development coincided with a reinvention of dinosaurs as bird-like, active and powerful animals rather than oversized, under-muscled cold-blooded creatures. The athletic appearance of shrink-wrapped dinosaurs chimed with this renaissance and contrasted newer art from the plodding, perhaps over-voluminous animals of previous generations. Shrink-wrapping is not a dinosaur-exclusive tradition of course, but the popularity of these reptiles means that palaeoart conventions applied to dinosaurs are inevitably followed in artworks of other species. Secondly, images of prehistoric animals as heroically-built, powerful beings are preferred by many merchandisers and palaeoart fans, these interpretations most closely matching the erroneous but popular portrayal of prehistory as a savage struggle for survival, where only the most powerful animals survived. Thirdly, shrink-wrapping allows palaeoartists to ‘show our work’, demonstrating that the anatomy underlying the skin of a restored animal matches the osteological information provided by fossils.

How shrink-wrapping became unfashionable

Nowadays, shrink-wrapping is losing popularity among some parties as scientists and artists note a simple, but obvious problem: modern animals are generally not shrink-wrapped in the way we draw their extinct relatives. The most famous counter-shrink-wrapping arguments are in All Yesterdays (Conway et al. 2012) but something of an anti-shrink-wrapping movement was underway from the mid-2000s onward. Some now argue that, while champions of the rigorous reconstruction movement were right to draw attention to the true shapes of fossil animals and to emphasise their form in art, they might have gone too far in thinning out skin, muscle, fats and other tissues. Few animals have deeply sunken tissues over skull fenestra or distinctions in skin colour and texture correlating with skeletal anatomy, and no animals witnessed outside of veterinary clinics have detailed limb bone outlines projecting through their skin. Even reptiles - meant to be the living poster boys of shrink-wrapping - have a suite of elaborate, contour-altering soft-tissues. They include voluminous fat deposits; large amounts of wrinkly, saggy skin; eyes which bulge prominently from their sockets; deep lip tissues which fully sheath their teeth; jaw muscles which completely fill and swell from their skull housing; thick or pointed scales and, in some species, even expansive, mostly cartilaginous noses.

Matt Wedel's touching plea to end shrink-wrapping, from 2011. The struggle is still real: if you have spare paint, pixels clay or graphite, please donate generously.
Nowadays, many view skeletal elements as providing an important palaeoartistic foundation for soft-tissue shape, but concede that overlying tissues must have smoothed-over skeletal contours to produce 'softer' body forms. Indeed, there's something of an collective interest in knowing how deep extra-skeletal tissues can get. The answer, it seems, is 'very'. The necks of many birds and mammals are often flexed at much higher angles than we would assume based on their external appearance because their overlying tissues are so thick that the entire neck skeleton posture is hidden (Taylor et al. 2009). The muscles and bones of major anatomical elements – such as necks and proximal limb segments – can also be obscured under skin, fat and integument. Contour-altering structures like horns, spikes, spines, combs, humps, armour, fins, and webbing are often composed of soft-tissue, and the large, savage-looking teeth of mammals and lizards can be completely obscured by facial tissues. We need only look at x-rays of living animal species to see their often-startling lack of correlation between external appearance and internal anatomy.

Even seals get in on this action, as evidenced from this Irish Seal Sancutary x-ray. Their site appears to be down at time of writing, but SV:POW! has this image hosted there for the time being. 
It's from this general train of thought that a  push for more bulk, fuzz and fat in palaeoart has been born, and this general philosophy is lining up well with fossil data. We have direct evidence that the bodies of ichthyosaurus (Stenopterygius) and mosasaurs (Prognathodon) bore tall fins and paddle extensions that vastly exceeded the limits of their skeletal margins (McGowan and Motani 2003; Lindgren et al. 2013). Preserved body outlines of ichthyosaurs and plesiosaurs show deep tissues which created smooth, streamlined torsos that are much bulkier than the underlying skeleton (Frey et al. 2017). Fossils of early horned dinosaurs (Psittacosaurus), Tanystropheus and ‘mummified’ hadrosaurs (multiple taxa) show extensive muscle volume that bury their skeletons as well as elaborate structures – soft-tissue filaments, combs and skin membranes – that defy ‘shrink-wrapping’ conventions (e.g. Mayr et al. 2002; Renesto 2005; Bell 2014). The feather outlines on innumerable fossil theropods show that they were just as densely feathered as modern avians, and the fuzzy ‘halos’ of fossil mammals and pterosaurs suggest they too were also adorned with deep layers of filaments. Several pterosaur fossils (PterodactylusPterorhynchus) also preserve unexpectedly broad neck tissue outlines which contrast against their thin, tubular neck vertebrae, as well as elaborations of crest tissues that create body outlines more voluminous than those predicted from musculoskeletal restorations (e.g. Frey and Martill 1998; Czerkas and Ji 2002). The 'shrink-wrapping hypothesis' is being falsified with regularity.
Select fossilised body outlines of exinct taxa: no shrink-wrapping here. A, plesiosaur Mauriciosaurus fernandezi, B, ichythyosaur Stenopterygius quadriscissus; C, dromaeosaur Sinornithosaurus millenii. A, after Frey et al. 2017; B after McGowan and Motani 2003.

Anti-anti-shrink-wrapping

But while cries of 'bulkier, deeper, fuzzier!' are generally well-placed in palaeoart discussions, we should be careful not to overshoot the mark. Amid the cry for deeper tissues, we might be overlooking the fact that some living creatures are somewhat shrink-wrapped - at least in some regions. In fact, virtually animals have areas where their extra-skeletal tissues are shallow and skeletal contours are visible. Common areas of thin tissue include the ends of limbs and tails; the midline of the sternal region; and some areas of the face, such as the frontal and nasal regions; the ‘cheek region’ (over the jugal in birds and reptiles, and the zygomatic arch in mammals), and the lower margins of the bottom jaw. Our own anatomy is no exception to these trends, as is borne out by the extremely well-studied tissue depths of human faces (e.g. Stephan and Simpson 2008) or the simple act of looking in a mirror. The osteoderms of sauropsids are another example of close interaction between skin and bone: as with modern armoured reptiles, extinct scaly sauropsids with extensive osteoderm arrangements probably looked pretty darn like their fossil remains - in other words, kinda shrink-wrapped.

There is no tissue, only Zuul.
In reality, there is a spectrum of tissue depth in living species and some are more 'shrink-wrapped' than others. While no healthy living animal attains the most extreme levels of shrink-wrappery portrayed in palaeoartworks, certain lizards, fish, and crocodylians have anatomies which are more shrink-wrapped than average, possessing large areas of relatively thin, skull-hugging tissues which recall shrink-wrapped art. These thin tissues are highly characteristic of these species and are something something palaeoartists would want to capture if restoring these animals from fossils. We would miss this, however, if we assume that all animals have their tissue volume settings cranked up to maximum.

These observations mean we have to be careful with applying a general philosophy to shrink-wrapping rather than scientific investigation. Tissue depth is evidently not a matter of palaeoartistic style or fashion, but a biological variable we should be aiming to predict and infer. If we're aiming to approach this topic like scientists, we should look to see what fossils and comparative anatomy can tell us about tissue depth to make informed, specific predictions about extinct animal appearance and avoiding a one-size-fits-all 'anti-shrink-wrap' philosophy. So, is there anything in the fossil record that elucidates how deeply buried animal skeletons were under muscle, skin and so on?

Looking for clues of 'shrink-wrapped' tissues

Frustratingly, one of the first lines of evidence we have to jettison are those body outline fossils. As great as they are, they can be of limited use for determining subtle variation in tissue thickness as their shapes are readily altered by taphonomy, preservation styles and even our own preparation work. Regions of thin tissue depth will be were especially sensitive to destructive processes and are easily obliterated by imperfect preservation or human error, so their chances of preservation are minimal. Phylogenetic bracketing is also of limited utility because the vastly different cranial architecture of extant and extinct animals makes such investigations almost meaningless. Non-avian dinosaurs, for instance, have skulls which are neither truly croc-like or bird-like, and it's probably not sensible to assume their extant relatives provide reliable insights into their facial tissues.

Predicting regions of thin tissue is thus largely left to comparative anatomy - predicting minimised tissue volumes using fossil bones and the living structural analogues. Among extant species, we see shrink-wrapping largely applying to animal faces, so if we investigate the skulls of ‘soft-faced’ animals like mammals, monitor lizards, snakes, and certain birds, and compare them to species with shrink-wrapped faces, like turtles, crocodylians, chameleons and well-ossified fish, we might find characteristics that correlate with facial tissue depth. These will then give us some criteria to assess tissue depth in fossil species. I've had a go at this, and suggest that osteological attributes related to facial tissue depth include:

How might we predict shrink-wrapping in fossil animals without good soft-tissue remains? It's challenging, but these attributes might give a general idea. From top to bottom: Burchell's zebra (Equus quagga burchellii); water monitor (Varanus salvator); Alligator mississipiensis and Arrau turtle (Podocnemis expansa).
Openness of skull architecture. The skull openings of softer-faced animals - including the temporal muscle openings, orbits and nares – tend to be large. At their most extreme these openings are not fully bordered by bone (e.g. many mammal orbits and nares, the lower temporal fenestrae of lizards). Larger skull openings necessitate a larger fraction of face structure be composed of soft-tissue, such as muscle, organs, and cartilage, and this overwhelms the contours of the bony skeleton to make a 'soft-faced' species. The nasal cartilages of monitors and mammals, as well as bulging mammalian jaw muscles, are examples of this. Conversely, shrink-wrapped species have smaller cranial openings, which impose physical limitations on how much soft-tissue can form the shape of the face. Muscles and organs might protrude from these somewhat, but their impact on facial structure is less than that of species with large skull openings, and more of the face shape reflects bony contours

Rugosity. Soft-faced animals tend to have smooth bone textures with limited or no areas of rugosity, whereas the skulls of shrink-wrapped species have large areas of rugose textures, often corresponding to specific epidermal features (e.g. scales or keratinous sheaths - see below and Hieronymus et al. 2009). This factor largely seems to reflect the proximity of epidermal tissue, which can leave characteristic textures in species with tightly-bound skin. Soft-faced species generally lack this rugosity because muscles, fat and voluminous integuments (fur and feathers) don’t leave broad osteological features (Hieronymus et al. 2009), or simply because their skin is displaced far enough from the bone that it doesn't alter its surface. We might also note that the skull contours of soft-faced species are generally more rounded than those of shrink-wrapped species, which can be crisp and sharp. Rugosity is a particularly useful criterion because it can show the presence of tight skin tissues with some precision. If one part of a skull is rugose, and another isn’t, there’s a good chance that the smoother region had a different tissue configuration which could - among other things - reflect a deeper or 'softer' facial covering.

Fossil skulls - like those of the centrosaurine Centrosaurus apertus - are covered with features that allow us to predict aspects of their facial skin. Often - as is the case here - they suggest fairly low-volume structures, like scales and horn sheaths, which generally don't deviate too much from the underlying bone (yes, I know there are exceptions, but we're looking for major trends here). Centrosaurus skull redrawn from this Wikipedia photo, data on facial tissue correlates from Hieronymus et al. (2009).
Pits, grooves and foramina. Shrink-wrapped species tend to have large numbers of perforations in their skulls, while soft-faced species show the opposite (Morhardt 2009). This is particularly evident around their jaws and presumably reflects the greater capacity for soft-faced animals to carry nutrients and sensory information through their soft-tissues, whereas shrink-wrapped animals are forced to run nervous and vascular networks through their face skeletons.

Correlates for epidermal projections. Elaborate skin projections – such as soft-tissue horns or crests - leave characteristic osteological signatures (Hieronymus et al. 2009). Given that these projections can alter animal faces quite substantially from the underlying skull shape, the presence of these is a clear indication that the species was not shrink-wrapped. We would expect a lack of correlates for epidermal projections in shrink-wrapped species.

As is often the case with zoological topics there are exceptions to these observations that preclude using any one of these criteria in isolation to determine tissue depth (e.g. smooth bone textures can underlie thin naked skin, so are not always a hallmark of deep tissues). However, applied collectively, they might give a general insight into how shrink-wrapped or 'soft-faced' an extinct animal was. I'm encouraged to see that these proposed osteological features of soft- and shrink-wrapped faces covaried in the past as much as they do for modern species. This doesn't mean these criteria are 'correct' as goes their relationship to tissue depth, but at least shows there's variation in their skull architecture that we can recognise as equivalent to that of modern species, and it isn't unreasonable to think the variance might reflect the same anatomical factors.

If we apply these criteria to some fossil taxa, what predictions might we make? The roomy, smooth-boned and foramina-lite skulls of cynodont-grade synapsids and fossil mammals match predictions for ‘softer-faced’ species, and this might be true of some fossil reptiles – like sauropod dinosaurs - too (this is not a new conclusion: both Matt Wedel and Darren Naish have been saying similar things about sauropods for years). If right, the 'soft-faced' sauropod that greeted you at the start of this post might be more likely that the shink-wrapped toilet-headed version we're so familiar with. At the other end of the spectrum, the highly textured, pitted bones and solidly-built skulls of ankylosaurs and anamniotes meet our criteria for shrink-wrapping very well, and they likely had facial anatomy tightly conforming to their skull shapes.

Applying the criteria outlined above might help us roughly sort predict 'shrinkwrapped', 'soft-faced' or intermediary conditions in extinct taxa. The placements of the animals here are only rough, but give an indication of their relation to the tissue-depth criteria outlined above. Fingers crossed that some of these will be corroborated or refuted with soft-tissue discoveries in future.
Careful examination of fossil skulls allows us to also predict partial or regionalised shrink-wrapping in species where some aspects of their facial anatomy conformed to the underlying bone, and others did not. An example of this configuration is demonstrated in some living lizards, like gila monsters, which have skull textures strongly indicating minimal tissue depth over much of their skull but smooth, foramina-lite jaw margins. In life, these animals have shrink-wrapped dorsal skull regions and snouts, but vast, fleshy lips, which is what we might predict based on their skull anatomy.

Partial facial shrink-wrapping seems apt for many fossil species. Gorgonopsians, for instance, might not have soft faces like living mammals as their snouts and foreheads are quite rugose and their nasal openings are small (e.g. Kammerer 2016). These features might indicate the presence of tighter skin over the snout. However, they have few jaw foramina and relatively open regions for jaw musculature, so they might have been fleshier around their jaw margins and at the back of head (below). Tyrant dinosaurs have skulls with relatively small openings compared to some of their theropod relatives, rugose snout textures, several hornlets (Carr et al. 2017), as well as a slightly elevated foramina count (Morhardt 2009). This cranial anatomy is consistent with tighter tissue depth in several areas, if someway short of a fully lipless, crocodylian-like degree of shrink-wrapping. Many pterosaurs show pitting and vascular canals embedded into their jaw margins, and some species have indications of tight sheathing on their crests and jaws, but the presence of striated bony crests – correlates for epidermal projections – as well as large skull openings and smooth bone textures in other parts of the skull, indicate that their faces might not have been entirely skeletal.

Was gorgonopsian Inostrancevia shrink-wrapped or soft-faced? According to the criteria of this post, maybe a little from column A, a little from column B. 
Time and testing will tell whether these criteria are a genuinely useful means to predict facial anatomy. I hope - as with other aspects of extinct animal appearance - that genuine research into this issue will be carried out one day. Criteria to predict tissue-depth are a desirable tool for any palaeoartist as it's simply more honest and scientific: if we're serious about this reconstructing extinct animals gig, predictive methods and sound hypotheses are infinitely better than sticking to our personal hunches, guesses or erring on what looks coolest. Regardless of whether we can predict tissue depth or not, the take home here is that we should not approach our artwork having already decided how thin or fat the tissue volumes of our subjects will be. There is probably not a single ‘universal truth’ that can be said about restoring tissue depth for all animals, whether we err toward thicker or thinner: the right tissue depth is the most defensible and best rationalised on for each subject and its constituent body parts.


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References

  • Bell, P.R. (2014). A review of hadrosaurid skin impressions. In D.A. Eberth and D.C. Evans (eds.) The Hadrosaurs: Proceedings of the International Hadrosaur Symposium. Indiana University Press, Bloomington and Indianapolis, pp. 572–590.
  • Buckland, W. (1836). Geology and mineralogy considered with reference to natural theology (Vol. 1). Carey, Lea and Blanchard.
  • Carr, T. D., Varricchio, D. J., Sedlmayr, J. C., Roberts, E. M., & Moore, J. R. (2017). A new tyrannosaur with evidence for anagenesis and crocodile-like facial sensory system. Scientific Reports, 7.
  • Conway, J., Kosemen, C. M., Naish, D., & Hartman, S. (2013). All Yesterdays: Unique and Speculative Views of Dinosaurs and Other Prehistoric Animals. Irregular books.
  • Czerkas, S. A., & Ji, Q. 2002). A new rhamphorhynchoid with a headcrest and complex integumentary structures. Feathered Dinosaurs and the origin of flight, 1, 15-41.
  • Frey, E., & Martill, D. M. (1998). Soft tissue preservation in a specimen of Pterodactylus kochi (WAGNER) from the Upper Jurassic of Germany. Neues Jahrbuch fur Geologie und Palaontologie-Abhandlungen, 210(3), 421.
  • Frey, E., Mulder, E. W., Stinnesbeck, W., Rivera-Sylva, H. E., Padilla-Gutiérrez, J. M., & González-González, A. H. (2017). A new polycotylid plesiosaur with extensive soft tissue preservation from the early Late Cretaceous of northeast Mexico. Boletín de la Sociedad Geológica Mexicana, 69(1), 87-134.
  • Hieronymus, T. L., Witmer, L. M., Tanke, D. H., & Currie, P. J. (2009). The facial integument of centrosaurine ceratopsids: morphological and histological correlates of novel skin structures. The Anatomical Record, 292(9), 1370-1396.
  • Kammerer, C. F. (2016). Systematics of the Rubidgeinae (Therapsida: Gorgonopsia). PeerJ, 4, e1608.
  • Lindgren, J., Kaddumi, H. F., & Polcyn, M. J. (2013). Soft tissue preservation in a fossil marine lizard with a bilobed tail fin. Nature Communications, 4, 2423.
  • Mayr, G., Peters, S. D., Plodowski, G., & Vogel, O. (2002). Bristle-like integumentary structures at the tail of the horned dinosaur Psittacosaurus. Naturwissenschaften, 89(8), 361-365.
  • McGowan, C. & Motani, R. (2003). Part 8 Ichthyopterygia. Sues H–D (ed.) Handbook of Paleoherpetology. Munchen: Verlag Dr. Friedrich Pfeil. 175 p.
  • Morhardt, A. C. (2009). Dinosaur smiles: Do the texture and morphology of the premaxilla, maxilla, and dentary bones of sauropsids provide osteological correlates for inferring extra-oral structures reliably in dinosaurs?. Western Illinois University.
  • Renesto, S. (2005). A new specimen of Tanystropheus (Reptilia Protorosauria) from the Middle Triassic of Switzerland and the ecology of the genus. Rivista Italiana di Paleontologia e Stratigrafia (Research in Paleontology and Stratigraphy), 111(3).
  • Stephan, C. N., & Simpson, E. K. (2008). Facial soft tissue depths in craniofacial identification (part I): an analytical review of the published adult data. Journal of Forensic Sciences, 53(6), 1257-1272.
  • Taylor, M. P., Wedel, M. J., & Naish, D. (2009). Head and neck posture in sauropod dinosaurs inferred from extant animals. Acta Palaeontologica Polonica, 54(2), 213-220.

Monday, 14 March 2016

The magnificent Caviramus, an early example of an anatomically 'extreme' pterosaur

The Carnian/Norian Swiss pterosaur Caviramus schesaplanensis, one of the earliest species to take pterosaur anatomy to strange new places. Anyone else want to make puns about 'Cave-iramus' with this picture? No? Anyone...?
What happens when you take the innate weirdness of the Triassic Period - the evolutionary equivalent of the late 1960s in terms of experimentation, weirdness and tragic ends to interesting lineages - and multiply it by a pterosaur? One answer is the marvellously strange Late Triassic flying reptile Caviramus schesaplanensis. This animal is a relative newcomer to the pterosaur roster, first being described in 2006 based on an incomplete lower jaw from Switzerland (Fröbisch and Fröbisch 2006), before better material in the form of an incomplete skeleton turned up a few years later* (Stecher 2008). Several cranial and dental features indicate Caviramus had kinship with other European pterosaurs such as Eudimorphodon and Campylognathoides, but that it was a rather distinctive animal compared to even close relatives. This 1.35 m wingspan animal had a chunky skull, large crests on both upper and lower jaws, densely packed and gnarly teeth, long, slender wings and a robust, lengthy set of hindlimbs (Stecher 2008). Several of these features are 'extreme' variants of pterosaur anatomy common to other Triassic animals, and others represent the most pronounced development of anatomical traits of any pterosaur. They mean that, even a decade after the first remains of this animal were published, Caviramus still gives us a lot to think about as goes its life appearance, lifestyle and functional anatomy.

*This skeleton was described as the holotype of a new genus and species, Raeticodactylus filisurensis, but a number of recent workers have shown it to be very likely congeneric, if not entirely synonymous, with C. schesaplanensis. I'm treating the two as the same taxon here.


Fossil material referred to Caviramus. Above, the holotype jaw of Caviramus schesaplanensis, below, the incomplete holotype skeleton of "Raeticodactylus filisurensis", a taxon now considered by most to be Caviramus and perhaps even Caviramus schesaplanensis itself. From Fröbisch and Fröbisch (2006) and Stecher (2008).
One atypical aspect of Caviramus is the cranial crest. Sure, pterosaur headcrests are really not uncommon (it's perhaps fair to say seems crestless species are more unusual than crested ones) but they remain fairly rare in the Triassic and, even compared to much later pterosaurs, Caviramus is pretty well endowed in the crest department. Rather than the low midline ridge typical of many pterosaur bony crests, this structure projects rudely from the front of the snout to reach well above the rest of the skull. We don't see anything like this again in the pterosaur record until the lower Cretaceous, when the famously elaborate tapejarids adopted a similar configuration. As with these pterosaurs, it's likely a soft-tissue component extended the Caviramus crest tissues in some way. The posterior crest border of the only known Caviramus skull is badly preserved, but the lateral crest surfaces have the same fibrous textures as pterosaurs known to have large soft-tissue crest components, such as Pterodactylus and Tupandactylus. The most parsimonious interpretation of this is that Caviramus had a big soft-tissue crest too, and - if the bony crest portion is indicative of the soft-tissue extent, as seems apparent from some pterosaur fossils - it might have been quite a spectacularly adorned animal. Caviramus seems to represent one of the first experiments with this sort of outlandish headgear, there being only one other Triassic species which could rival it for crest development (Austriadactylus cristatus - see Dalla Vecchia et al. 2002) .

Multiple aspects of the Caviramus jaw are of interest. It was probably a powerful biter, and perhaps regularly consumed relatively tough prey such as invertebrates with thick exoskeletons or fish with hard scales. Such a diet is indicated by its blunted and worn tooth tips, and the enamel of the anterior teeth being strongly rugose - some readers may recall from a recent article that these features also occur in other specialists of hard prey, such as the giant, turtle-eating Cretaceous crocodylian Deinosuchus. Caviramus dentition is morphologically complicated and, again, indicates some specialisation. As with many Triassic pterosaurs, the teeth are differentiated into large, curving anterior fangs at the jaw tips and complicated, multicusped teeth behind these. These posterior teeth are so numerous and tightly packed that they actually sit obliquely in the jaw, overlapping one another to form a continuous, 'megaserrated' cutting surface. The depression of the jaw joint (another atypical feature for a pterosaur, and one that won't reappear until later in pterosaur evolution) permitted these teeth to occlude simultaneously rather than gradually, as occurs in animals with jaw joints level with the toothrow. Areas of Caviramus jaw muscle attachment are large, including a broadly expanded posterior lower jaw. The mandible and skull are not, as with some pterosaurs, delicately built from slender struts but comprised of deep bars and robust bone junctions. Cross sections of the Caviramus holotype jaw indicate that some cavities were present in the cranial skeleton, but that bone volumes were superior in at least some places. This was clearly an skull capable of delivering and withstanding forceful bites, and its configuration recalls some dinosaur species which are sometimes considered to be omnivorous (e.g. many small ornithischians). Maybe it was equipped with powerful jaws so that it could tackle a wide range of tough foods, including nutritious plant matter.

Cross section through the posterior (specifically, coronoid) section of the Caviramus holotype jaw. Grey shading represents bone, white indicates hollow regions. From Fröbisch and Fröbisch (2006).
This strong skull and dental apparatus seems odd compared to the Caviramus humerus. This bone is about as long as expected for a pterosaur of this kind, but is distinctive for being very, very slender. Usually, pterosaur humeri are the most robust elements in the limb skeleton, but that of Caviramus is no wider than the more distal wing elements. So proportionally different is this bone that the shoulder and upper arm were probably much more slender in life than those of other pterosaurs. Quite what this means for Caviramus locomotion has not been looked into yet, and any attempt to assess this will be frustrated by the only known Caviramus humerus being somewhat imperfectly preserved. Still, it's known in enough detail to at least permit some basic comments.

One obvious question concerns what this humerus means for quadrupedal launch potential in this animal. A core basis to this hypothesis is that pterosaur humeri are much stronger than their femora (Habib 2008) but - going on a basic assessment of bone shape here - this is not obviously the case for Caviramus. We should not automatically default to assuming Caviramus was a bipedal launcher however, as it is small enough to not need atypically strengthened limb elements for launch. The limb bones of volant animals are expected to start showing strong signals of a launch strategy once their body mass hits 2 kg (i.e. it's above this mass where the humerus or femur strength starts to become disproportionately strong compared to the other limb elements - see Habib 2008 for details) but, at only 1.35 metres across the wings, Caviramus probably only massed a little over one kilo. I'm sure Caviramus did have a preference for a particular launch strategy (I'm not aware of any animals which can readily flip between quadrupedal and bipedal launch, except under special circumstances), but its size means we might need dedicated investigation to know which was more likely. Given that all other pterosaurs seem to be quad-launchers, my suggestion is to assume this as the null hypothesis for now until we have reason to assume otherwise.

Caviramus schesaplanensis skeletal reconstruction, somewhat updated from the original version in Witton (2013). Unknown elements based on Campylognathoides liassicus (see Padian 2008).
The slenderness of the Caviramus humerus might have impacted flight once airborne, too. Caviramus joins pterosaurs like Eudimorphodon and Campylognathoides in having very long wings, but lacks the stocky, probably powerfully muscled humeri of these species. These might have enabled Eudimorphodon et al. to be forceful fliers capable of rapid flapping, elevated speeds and high agility. But the delicately constructed humerus supporting a long distal wing in Caviramus might have curbed any potential for being a powerful flapper or aerial acrobat - its humerus would have been far more vulnerable to bending than those of other pterosaurs. This is not to say that it was purely restricted to gliding, however. Studies of avian wing construction show that their humeri do not have to be enormously strong to permit flapping flight (indeed, their humeral strength seems to scale more or less isometrically with body size - Witton and Habib 2010) and the fact Caviramus has a large deltopectoral crest to anchor flight musculature is a good indication it was an active flier. We might conclude that its long, slender wing bones were suited to soaring flight with limited flapping - long winged seabirds like gulls, albatross and terns might be a good modern flight analogue.

Readers familiar with the Caviramus illustration in my 2013 book Pterosaurs: Natural History, Evolution, Anatomy might note that the 2016 Caviramus (above) is rather differently posed. There's good reason for this - read on...
It's not only flight that this unusual humerus might have impacted: it might have imposed some restrictions for life on the ground. I don't think we should assume it was so slender that it was incapable of supporting the animal - again, we're not dealing with an enormously heavy species here - but its slenderness might have impacted how the limb functioned when grounded. Specifically, the apparent absence of an expanded elbow region suggests it had sprawling forelimbs. As noted above, the Caviramus humerus is a little imperfectly preserved in places, the distal end being the poorest bit, but the proximal ulna confirms that the elbow joint was not broad. Slender elbows have been interpreted as a signature of sprawling forelimbs in some pterosaurs, for two reasons (Witton 2015, also see this blog post). Firstly, they suggest that musculature operating the wrist was fairly reduced (remember that wrist action is controlled by muscles anchored around the elbow - see Fujiwara and Hutchinson 2012). This reflects both the stresses encountered when standing in a sprawling pose and practicalities of terrestrial locomotion. Walking animals need to clear their feet or hands from the ground when moving, and animals with erect limbs have to do this by collapsing limb joints to reduce the effective length of the limb. Sprawling animals can use motion of the upper limb bone (humerus or femur) to elevate the entire limb, and can therefore take steps without needing to collapse the distal joints. Secondly, slender pterosaur elbows seem to correlate with shoulder joints that prevent depression of the humerus below the horizontal, a bony stop at the base of the shoulder precluding adoption of erect forelimb poses in these species. Given what we see in other pterosaurs, then, we might assume Caviramus elbow morphology indicates it had sprawling forelimbs, although we really need better fossil material to verify this. As in all other pterosaurs, details of the femoral morphology indicate that the hindlimbs were likely held erect. The legs are long enough that even with a highly crouched forelimb the animal still looks very 'leggy', and, in spite of its sprawled forelimbs, it might have been a fast, sprightly terrestrial animal. I imagine long-legged, skinny-limbed Caviramus scuttling about the place might give some people the creeps if it were alive today - if there was ever a pterosaur that might indirectly trigger arachnophobia, it's this one.

Collectively, these points suggest Caviramus represents one of the oldest deviations from what might be considered a 'standard' pterosaur bauplan and perhaps one of the first developments of anatomical 'extremes' in the group, at least as goes skull and wing anatomy. What makes this remarkable is that Caviramus lived so soon after the pterosaurs evolved in the first place - it seems to have wasted no time in pushing the pterosaur skeleton to weird new places. Unfortunately, it's currently difficult to say how successful these experiments were. The Triassic pterosaur record is extremely poor, particularly outside of Europe, and it is difficult to provide any meaningful evaluation of the abundance or longevity of lineages from this period. In a broad sense, however, it might be significant that we don't find Caviramus-like humeri or jaws in the better understood pterosaur faunas of the Jurassic or Cretaceous. Maybe Caviramus represents a configuration that was unsuited to life beyond conditions of the Triassic or, alternatively, perhaps the more 'typical' anatomies of other pterosaurs were just more adaptable in the long run. Whatever the reality here, Caviramus is a good example of how diverse and adaptable pterosaur anatomy can be and how much we have to learn about the early history of this group.

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References

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  • Witton, M. P. (2015). Were early pterosaurs inept terrestrial locomotors?. PeerJ, 3, e1018.
  • Witton, M. P., & Habib, M. B. (2010). On the size and flight diversity of giant pterosaurs, the use of birds as pterosaur analogues and comments on pterosaur flightlessness. PloS one, 5(11), e13982.