March 9, 2014
Although it would be nice to think that our site views have octupled in the last day because of Mike’s fine and funny posts about what search terms bring people to SV-POW!, the real reason is that we were blessed by incoming links from both pages of this Cracked.com article.
Now, as any person who has ever accomplished anything whatsoever knows, it is super-important to avoid Cracked.com or you’ll still be up 23 hours from now reading, “6 Mind-Blowing Ways that Comedy Writers are Secretly Destroying Your Productivity”. (I’m kidding, that article doesn’t really exist–but if it did, I’m sure it would consist entirely of descriptions and links to six other Cracked articles). But that’s only true because most of the articles there hit the sweet spot at the intersection of funny, surprisingly informative, mercifully short, and well-written. Crack.com would be a more honest URL, but I assume it was taken.
Anyway, I’d like to return the favor, so here’s a list of the 6 SV-POW! Posts Most Likely to Blow the Minds of Cracked.com Readers. If I missed some goodies or recommended some stinkers, let me know–the comment thread is open.
Who doesn’t want to read about the bizarre real-world mystery surrounding what might have been the world’s largest dinosaur? If you’re not sold, consider that the picture above shows a single vertebra that was–or at least might have been–seven and a half feet tall.
The mercifully short version of this much longer post, in which I consider the consequences of the world’s largest animals having the world’s longest cells.
Weapons-grade anatomical pedantry.
Yes, there is a ship in Star Wars: The Clone Wars that is basically a flying dinosaur vertebra. It took us about five weeks to unravel that story–the post linked above has links to the rest of the saga.
Our original linkbait post. Don’t miss the shorter follow-up with more critters.
A deliberately goofy post in which I wax poetic about the largest predatory dinosaur claws ever discovered.
So, that was a big pile of superlatives and Star Wars. If you’re hungry for more substantial fare, you might start with our Tutorials page or our Things to Make and Do series on dissecting and skeletonizing modern animals. We also blog a lot about the evils of obstructive publishers and the need for open access to the scientific literature–you can find those posts on our Shiny Digital Future page.
A parting shot in my desperate quest for attention: this Star Wars ship flying around in the background in Firefly and Serenity is at least partly my fault–full story here. Oh, and my co-blogger Mike Taylor has written an insightful and affordable book about Doctor Who; read about it here.
Wedel, M.J., and Taylor, M.P. 2013. Neural spine bifurcation in sauropod dinosaurs of the Morrison Formation: ontogenetic and phylogenetic implications. Palarch’s Journal of Vertebrate Palaeontology 10(1): 1-34. ISSN 1567-2158.
February 24, 2014
As a break from photography posts, here are four pretty big vertebrae that swirl in the same thought-space in my head. All are shown to scale, in right lateral view. These are not the biggest sauropod cervical vertebrae–Supersaurus beats them all, and there are vertebrae of Puertasaurus, Alamosaurus, and Futalognkosaurus that rival the big Sauroposeidon vert, but those are either less well preserved or still awaiting detailed description.
Incidentally, I think BYU 12867 is a C10. The centrum proportions are about right, compared to Giraffatitan, and the neural spine looks good, too, like a geometric transformation of the big Giraffatitan C8. Also, the drawn-in prezyg outline for MIWG.7306 is a little short; the actual prezyg is a monster and would have overhung the condyle by another 10cm or so. I’m pretty sure that we had a composite photograph showing this at one point, but irritatingly none of us can find it at the moment. If it turns up, I’ll update the image.
For a long time I thought Sauroposeidon was a brachiosaurid. Now it seems to be a somphospondyl (D’Emic 2012) or possibly even a basal titanosaur (Mannion et al. 2013), even if we stick just to the holotype. But if it’s not a brachiosaurid, it’s cervical vertebrae are at least coarsely brachiosaur-y in outline.
You may recall from Naish et al. (2004) that MIWG.7306 shares several derived characters with the holotype vertebrae of Sauroposeidon. Does that mean that Angloposeidon is a somphospondyl or titanosaur as well? I dunno–as always, we need more material–but it’s an interesting possibility.
- D’Emic, M.D. 2012. The early evolution of titanosauriform sauropod dinosaurs. Zoological Journal of the Linnean Society 166: 624–671.
- Mannion, P.D., Upchurch, P., Barnes, R.N., and Mateus, O. 2013. Osteology of the Late Jurassic Portuguese sauropod dinosaur Lusotitan atalaiensis (Macronaria) and the evolutionary history of basal titanosauriforms. Zoological Journal of the Linnean Society, 168(1): 98-206.
- Naish, D., Martill, D. M., Cooper, D. & Stevens, K. A. 2004. Europe’s largest dinosaur? A giant brachiosaurid cervical vertebra from the Wessex Formation (Early Cretaceous) of southern England. Cretaceous Research 25:787-795.
February 21, 2014
February 17, 2014
This whole section, including the title, is mostly swiped from Mike’s Tutorial 17.
Other posts in this series are here.
Papers referenced in these slides:
- Farke, Andrew A., and Sertich, Joseph J.W. 2013. An abelisauroid theropod dinosaur from the Turonian of Madagascar. PLoS ONE 8(4): e62047. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0062047 [PDF]
- Taylor, Michael P., Mathew J. Wedel and Richard L. Cifelli. 2011. A new sauropod dinosaur from the Lower Cretaceous Cedar Mountain Formation, Utah, USA. Acta Palaeontologica Polonica 56(1):75-98. doi: 10.4202/app.2010.0073
- Wedel, Mathew J., and Michael P. Taylor. 2013. Caudal pneumaticity and pneumatic hiatuses in the sauropod dinosaurs Giraffatitan and Apatosaurus. PLOS ONE 8(10):e78213. 14 pages. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0078213 [PDF]
February 12, 2014
Today (12th February) is the one-year anniversary of the first PeerJ papers! As Matt put it in an email this morning:
Hard to believe it’s been a year already. On the other hand, it’s also hard to believe that it’s only been a year. PeerJ is just such an established part of my worldview now.
That’s exactly right. PeerJ has so completely rewritten the rule-book (on price, speed and quality of service) that now when I’m thinking about new papers I’m going to write, the question I ask myself is no longer “Where shall I send this?” but “Is there any reason not to send it to PeerJ?”
Yesterday in the comments of a post on The Scholarly Kitchen, Harvey Kane asked me “I am curious as to where you get the notion that publishing OA is less expensive and in some way “better” than the traditional model?” My reply was (in part):
My notion that OA publishing yields better results than traditional is rooted in the online-only nature of articles, which allows them to ignore arbitrary limits on word-count, number of figures, use of colour, etc., and to exploit online-only formats such as video, 3d models, CT-slice stacks, etc. In my own field of vertebrate palaeontology, it’s now routine to see in PLOS ONE descriptive articles that are many times more comprehensive than their equivalents in traditional journals — see for example the recent description of the frog Beelzebufo.
Of course there is nothing specific to open-access about this: there is no technical reason why an online-only subscription journal shouldn’t publish similarly detailed articles. But my experience so far has been that they don’t — perhaps because they are tied to the mindset that pages and illustrations are limited resources.
For Beelzebufo in PLOS ONE, read baby Parasaurolophus in PeerJ, which we described as “the world’s most open-access dinosaur“. This paper is 83 pages of technicolour goodness, plus all the 3d models you can eat. And the crazy thing is, this sort of detail in descriptive papers is not even exceptional any more — see for example the recent description of Canardia in PLOS ONE, or this analysis of croc respiration in PeerJ
Years ago, I said that in the Archbishop descriptions I wanted to raise the bar for quality of illustration. Well, I’ve taken so long over getting the Archbishop done that the bar has been raised, and now I’m scrambling to catch up. Certainly the illustrations even in our 2011 description of Brontomerus are starting to look a bit old-fashioned.
And of course, the truly astonishing thing about PeerJ is that it does this so very cheaply. Because I’m already a member (which cost me $99), the Archbishop description is going to be free to me to publish this year. (This year for sure!) If we also get our Barosaurus neck preprint published properly this year,then I’ll have to find $100 to upgrade my Basic membership to Enhanced. That’s cheap enough that it’s not even worth going through the hassle of trying to get Bristol to pay for me. And if I ever hit a year when I publish three or more papers, I’ll upgrade once more (for another $100) to the Investigator plan and then that’s it: I’m done paying PeerJ forever, however many papers I publish there. (Matt jumped straight to the all-you-can-eat plan, so he wouldn’t even have to think about it ever again.)
PeerJ’s pricing is making PLOS ONE’s $1350 APC look distinctly old-fashioned; and the $3000 charged by the legacy publishers (for a distinctly inferior product) is now frankly embarrassing. You might expect that as such low prices, PeerJ’s quality of service would suffer, but that’s not been our experience: editing, reviewing, typesetting and proofing for our neck-anatomy paper were all up there with the best we’ve received anywhere.
And it’s great to see that it’s not just minor researchers like Matt and me who are persuaded by PeerJ: they’ve now accumulated a frankly stellar list of 20 universities (so far) with institutional plans for researchers to publish there. When I say “stellar” I mean that the list includes Harvard, MIT, Cambridge, Berkeley, Stanford, Johns Hopkins, UCL, Carnegie Mellon, Duke … the list goes on.
We can only hope that the next year, and the next ten and twenty, are as successful for PeerJ as the first has been; and that other New Generation publishers will join it in pushing the field forward.
I leave the last word to Matt:
I’m getting Vicki a lifetime membership for Valentine’s Day. Because I’m a romantic.
She’s a lucky, lucky woman.
February 10, 2014
Let it never be said that we don’t take good care of our commenters. Heck, we’ll even degrade ourselves by blogging about theropods, if that’s what it takes to keep you all happy.
Today’s post is a response to this comment by Dean, asking for lateral view photos of the skull of Giraffatitan. Mike and I did get to spend some quality time with the T1 skull (a.k.a. “Old Toilet-Face”) when we were in Berlin in 2008.
Unfortunately, most of our photos turned out not-so-hot. The room around the skull was not large, so we couldn’t get back very far from it. Hence our photos are plagued by perspective distortions.
Also, we didn’t have a tripod along and the light level was fairly low, and the combination of handheld shots and long exposure times meant that most of the shots are at least a little blurry.
BUT. It was still a thrill to see that skull up close.
The crazy thing about Giraffatitan is that the skull looks like it’s going to be pretty sweet when you see it from the side. Because you’re thinking it’s going to be kinda narrow, like a giraffe’s head. Then you get even a partial front view and suddenly the animal’s whole skull looks like a partially-deflated whoopie cushion (whereas in life it looked like a mostly-inflated whoopie cushion). And then you have to live with the knowledge that one of the most majestic animals that ever lived on Earth was afflicted with derpty-face. I’ll bet they went extinct from shame.
Still, there is some cool anatomy to see here, especially the snout-troughs leading down from the external nares, and the neurovascular foramina on the maxillae.
And, crucially, brachiosaurs had the good taste to hide their freakish countenances 45 feet up, where they could be safely ignored by everyone other than pterosaurs and birds. This has not escaped the notice of exhibit designers:
Go here for the unmarked original.
February 8, 2014
January 30, 2014
Following on from Matt’s post about the difficulty of photographing big specimens without distortion, I thought I’d have a play with our best Sauroposeidon C8 photo, which I think is this one:
(That’s been the basis for classic SV-POW! posts such as Your neck is pathetic and Darren’s new indeterminate Wealden maniraptoran is inadequate.)
I was motivated by Andy Farke’s comment:
Another–and perhaps more important–area where surface models excel is when you can remove colors on the original specimen that wash out relevant details…I bet this is probably the case for the example vertebra of Sauroposeidon. How many fossae and foramina just don’t show up well on the photos above?
Andy was talking about completely colourless 3d surface models, in which the 3d shape allows a render to make shadows that bring out the subtle shapes. But it made me wonder whether we could get anywhere just by washing out the most prevalent colour in the photo.
I started by doing a big, fat Gaussian blur on a duplicate layer — 500 pixels in each direction — and sampling the colour in the middle, to get a rough-and-ready average. (There may be a better way — please shout if you know one.) That average colour was#7e6b2f. I used it to run Colour To Alpha on another duplicate of the original layer, so that we’d be left with only residual colours. Here’s the result:
I’m in two minds about this. It may be informative, but it sure is ugly. To compromise, I reinstated the original layer underneath this mostly-transparent one, and turned its opacity down to 75%. Here’s the result — a nice compromise:
Of course, there are endless other approaches you can take — that’s the blessing and the curse of image-editing programs like GIMP. For example, here’s what I got doing a simple Colours → Auto → White Balance:
I’m not sure that isn’t the best of the bunch, in terms of informativeness.
I also tried something else — not amazingly successfully, but I think it’s worth seeing. Since the two photos that Matt showed in the previous post were evidently taken from somewhat different angles, I thought I’d have a go at compositing them into a red-cyan anaglyph. Because the variation in camera position is mostly dorsoventral rather than anteroposterior, the vert has to be pointed upwards for the two eyes to see the two versions from different horizontal points. Here’s the best I could do:
I would say this is of some value; but it’s nowhere near as good as, for example, the anaglyph of Cervical S of the Archbishop. I could sit and look at that one all day. The problems with this one arise for three reasons.
First, I had to reduce both parts of the Sauroposeidon anaglyph to monochrome (since one was already in that form), so all colour information was lost.
Second, I had to scale the high-resolution picture to the same size as the lower-resolution one, throwing away more detail.
Finally, and most important, the two photos were not taken with the intention that they should be used to make an anaglyph. To work well, this has to be done with the images taken under the same lighting conditions, at the same distance from the specimen, from perspectives differing by about the distance between the pupils of the viewer, and with the camera-position difference being perfectly in the plane of the specimen. Needless to say, none of these conditions was met in this case, so it’s actually quite impressive that it works as well as it does.
We have a lot of options for illustrating specimens these days. Postage-stamp-sized greyscale photos really don’t cut it any more.
January 29, 2014
Here are two photos of what I infer to be C8 of OMNH 53062, the holotype of Sauroposeidon. The top one was taken by Mike during our visit to the OMNH in 2007. If you’re a regular you may recognize it from several older posts: 1, 2, 3. The bottom one was taken by Mike Callaghan, the former museum photographer at the OMNH, sometime in 1999 or 2000. I used it in Wedel et al. (2000) and Wedel and Cifelli (2005).
You’ll notice that the two photos are far from identical. In both cases, the photographers were up on ladders, as far above the vertebra as they could get, and there are still significant perspective effects. That’s just a fact of life when you’re taking photos of a vertebra that is 1.4 meters long, from anything lower than a helicopter. In Mike Taylor’s shot, the neural spine looms a little too large; in Mike Callaghan’s shot, the prezygapophysis looks a little too small, probably because it was curving off at the edge of the shot. So neither photograph is “right”; both distort the morphology of the specimen in different ways. Here’s how the two images stack up, with the outlines scaled to the same length:
When I ran a draft of this post past Mike, he wrote (with permission to post):
I think the current draft misses an important point: the warning. We really can’t trust photos, however carefully taken, and however beautifully composited into TNFs*. You’re welcome to quote me as having said I’d have assumed the two C8s were different vertebrae. For that matter, I bet I could have worked up several taxonomically significant characters to distinguish them. Yikes.
So the moral is, photos of big specimens almost always involve some distortion. This is clearly not ideal. But I have a plan for fixing it. I am hoping to get back to the OMNH this spring, and the next time I’m there, I’m going to take photos of this vertebra from a zillion angles and make a 3D model through photogrammetry. Happily, Heinrich Mallison has been producing a very helpful series of tutorials on that very topic over at dinosaurpaleo: 1, 2, 3, 4, with more on the way (I’ll update the links here later). Update: Don’t forget to check out Peter Falkingham’s (2012) paper in PE on making photogrammetric models with free software.
Armed with that model, it should be possible to produce a perspective-free lateral view image of the vertebra, to which all of the previous photos can be compared. I can’t use CT data because this vertebra has never been CTed; it’s too big to fit through a medical CT scanner, and probably too fragile to be packed up and shipped to an industrial CT machine like they used on Sue (not to mention that would require a significant chunk of money, which is probably not worth spending on a problem that can be solved in other ways).
So, photogrammetry to the rescue, or am I just deluding myself? Let me know what you think in the comments.
Finally, I should mention that the idea of superseding photographs with 3D photogrammetric models is not original. I got religion last week while I was having beers with Martin Sander and he was showing me some of the models he’s made. He said that going forward, he was going to forbid his students to illustrate their specimens only with photographs; as far as he was concerned, now that 3D models could be cheaply and easily produced by just about everyone, they should be the new standard. Inspiring stuff–now I must go do likewise.
Some previous posts on Sauroposeidon:
- The enigmatic taphonomy of Sauroposeidon
- Bonus post: Sauroposeidon illustrated
- There’s almost nothing but nothing there, Sauroposeidon edition
tallweird was Sauroposeidon?
- Here comes Santaposeidon!
- Hot sauropod news, part 2: A new look for Sauroposeidon
- The dark side of Sauroposeidon
- Estimating sauropod intervertebral cartilage thickness from CT scans
- Falkingham, P.L. 2012. Acquisition of high resolution 3D models using free, open-source, photogrammetric software. Palaeontologia Electronica Vol. 15, Issue 1; 1T:15p
- Wedel, M.J., and Cifelli, R.L. 2005. Sauroposeidon: Oklahoma’s native giant. Oklahoma Geology Notes 65 (2):40-57.
- Wedel, M.J., R.L. Cifelli and R.K. Sanders. 2000. Osteology, paleobiology, and relationships of the sauropod dinosaur Sauroposeidon. Acta Palaeontologica Polonica 45(4): 343-388.