This past summer I did a post on my birthday card from Brian Engh, but I haven’t posted about my birthday present from him: this handmade fired-clay sculpture of Parasaurolophus.

I don’t have a ton to say about it, other than that — as you can tell from the photos — it looks pretty darned convincing. I adore the fern leaf impressions in the base.

This sits on the mantle in our living room. My eye wanders to it in stray moments. I’ve often run down ornithopods as boring, but they’re all right. They’re the clade of dinosaurs most remote from my research, so they’re about the only ones left that just signify “dinosaur” to me, without any research-related intellectual baggage. So when I’m woolgathering and my eyes land on this sculpture, it doesn’t make me think about me or now. It makes me think about them, and then. It’s a talismanic time machine. And a pretty darned great birthday present. Thanks, Brian!

We’re just back from an excellent SVPCA on the Isle of Wight. We’ll write more about it, but this time I just want to draw attention to a neat find. During a bit of down time, Matt and Vicki were wandering around West Cowes (the town where the scientific sessions were held), when they stumbled across a place called That Shop. Intrigued by all the Lego figures in the window, they went in, and Matt found a small section of fossils. Including … an Iguanodon pelvis, supposedly certified as such by the Dinosaur Isle museum.

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Here it is: I imagine that whoever classified it read this elongate concave surface as part of the acetabulum. Matt’s hypothesis is that they mistook it for a sacral vertebra and that became “pelvis” via over-simplification.

It’s about 18 cm in a straight line across the widest part, or 20 cm around the curve.

Here is an actual documentary record of Matt’s moment of discovery:

Yep, you got it! It’s a sauropod vertebra! (Matt would never have spent good money on a stinkin’ appendicular element of a stinkin’ ornithopod.)

Specifically, it’s the bottom half of the front part of the centrum of a dorsal vertebra:

Eucamerotus” dorsal vertebra NHMUK PV R88 in right lateral and anterior views. Non-faded portions show the location of the Wedel Specimen. Modified from Hulke (1880: plate IV).

In these photos, we’re looking down into it more or less directly dorsal view, with anterior to the left. Click through the photos, and — once you know what you’re looking at — you can clearly see the pneumatic spaces: nice patches of finished bone lining the camellae, with trabecular bone in between.

Clearly there’s nowhere near enough of this to say what it is with any certainty. But our best guess is that it seems compatible with a titanosauriform identity, quite possibly in same space as the various Wealden sauropod dorsals that have been assigned to Ornithopsis or Eucamerotus.

References

  • Hulke, J. W.  1880.  Supplementary Note on the Vertebræ of Ornithopsis, Seeley, = Eucamerotous, Hulke. Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society 36:31–35.  doi:10.1144/GSL.JGS.1880.036.01-04.06

You may recall that sculptor James Herrmann did a life-size bronze of Aquilops (shown above) back in 2017. I love it, and I’d get one in a heartbeat if I had the disposable income or the space in which to display it. Since I have neither, I got in touch with James and asked if he’d be interested in doing a casting of just the bust. Happily for me, he was game, and today this sturdy wooden crate arrived in the mail:

Inside, insanely well-packed in lots of cushy foam:

That’s a t-shirt James threw in with my order. But you’re probably more interested in this, which was also in the crate:

Unpacked and plunked on the crate lid on the lawn since it was the best I could come up with on short notice:

Some nicer photos by James of the same sculpture in prettier surroundings:

The bust is mounted on a gorgeous piece of polished green marble, with thick felt on the bottom so it won’t scratch up the furniture. The max length of the base is 9.5 inches and when standing on a desk or table, the whole piece is almost exactly 12 inches tall. I haven’t weighed it but it’s heavy enough that you could knock someone out with it, no problem.

I’d say it looks nice, but that’s both redundant, in this photo-heavy post, and a gross understatement. It looks absurdly nice, like it wandered into my space from some other, classier joint. I have some serious desk-cleaning to do so it won’t look like I stole this.

Instead of doing a big run of these, James is having them cast one at a time, on demand. The cost is $500 plus shipping; mine came to $573.33 shipped. If you want one, or want to browse James’s catalogue, or commission something yourself, you can find him at http://www.herrmannstudio.com/.

Thanks, James, for your interest in ‘my’ critter, for your skill in bringing it to life, and for making this bust available. I love it.

In short, no. I discussed this a bit in the first post of the Clash of the Dinosaurs saga, but it deserves a more thorough unpacking, so we can put this dumb idea to bed once and for all.

As Marco brought up in the comments on the previous post, glycogen bodies are probably to blame for the idea that some dinosaurs had a second brain to run their back ends. The glycogen body is broadly speaking an expansion of the spinal cord, even though it is made up of glial cells rather than neurons — simply put, help-and-support cells, not sensory, motor, or integration cells. When the spinal cord is expanded, the neural canal is expanded to accommodate it; as usual, the nervous system comes first and the skeleton forms around it. This creates a cavity in the sacrum that is detectable in fossils.

avian lumbosacral specializations - glycogen body

Giffin (1991) reviewed all of the evidence surrounding endosacral enlargements in dinosaurs (primarily sauropods and stegosaurs) and concluded that the explanation that best fit the observations was a glycogen body like that of birds. I agree 100%. The endosacral cavities of sauropods and stegosaurs (1) expand dorsally, instead of in some other direction, and (2) expand and contract over just a handful of vertebrae, instead of being more spread out. Of the many weird specializations of the spinal cord in birds, the glycogen body is the only one that produces that specific signal.

If any part of the nervous system of birds and other dinosaurs might be described as a ‘second brain’, it wouldn’t be the glycogen body, it would be the lumbosacral expansion of the spinal cord, which really is made up of neurons that help run the hindlimbs and tail (more on that in this previous post). But there’s nothing special about that, it’s present in all four-limbed vertebrates, including ourselves. Interestingly, that bulk of extra neural tissue in the sacral region of birds was referred to as a sort of ‘second brain’ by Streeter way back in 1904, in reference to the ostrich, but it’s clear that he meant that as an analogy, not that’s it’s literally a second brain.

So to sum up, a gradual expansion of the spinal cord to help run the hindlimbs and tail IS present in dinosaurs — and birds, and cows, and frogs, and us. But if that qualifies as a ‘second brain’, then we also have a ‘third brain’ farther up the spinal cord to run our forelimbs: the cervical enlargement, as shown in the above figure. These spinal expansions aren’t actual brains by any stretch and referring to them as such is confusing and counterproductive.

The sharp expansion of the neural canal over just a few vertebrae in birds does not house a ‘second brain’ or even an expansion of the neural tissue of the spinal cord. It contains the glycogen body, which is not made of neurons and has no brain-like activity. The sacral cavities of non-avian dinosaurs replicate precisely the qualities associated with the glycogen bodies of birds, and there’s no reason to expect that they contained anything else. That we don’t know yet what glycogen bodies do, even in commercially important species like chickens, may make that an unsatisfying answer, but it’s what we have for now.

The next installment will be way weirder. Stay tuned!

References

  • Giffin, E.B.,1991. Endosacral enlargements in dinosaurs. Modern Geology 16: 101-112.
  • Streeter, G.L. 1904. The structure of the spinal cord of the ostrich. American J. Anatomy 3(1): 1-27.

Aquilops skull, take 3

December 12, 2018

Nothing really new here, not like a new skull recon or anything. The original version I did for Farke et al. (2014) had the jaw articulated and closed. Then in 2017 I posted a version with the lower jaw disarticulated. Obviously what was needed was one with the lower jaw articulated and open. Now it exists, here. I mean, since I posted the separate parts last year people have had everything they needed to make their own, but it’s nice to have one already built, so here you go.

My good friend, frequent collaborator, and fellow adventurer Brian Engh has won the John J. Lanzendorf Paleoart Prize for 2D paleoart (there are also categories for 3D paleoart and scientific illustration). He’s in august company; previous Lanzendorf winners include luminaries like John Gurche, Michael Skrepnick, Mark Hallett, Todd Marshall, and Julius Csotonyi (among many others–see the complete list of previous winners here). Naturally I’m happy as heck for Brian, and immensely proud of him, not only for the award, but also for what he’s doing now. Usually when we say “pay it forward” we mean metaphorically, but Brian is literally going to pay it forward. He’s created his own paleoart contest, the SummonENGH 2018, and he will award half of his October Patreon take to the winner.

He lays out the rules on his blog and in this video:

There’s a Facebook group, here, and a hashtag: #TheSummonEngh2018 (Facebook, Twitter).

Why do I think this is cool? It’s no exaggeration to say that I am a paleontologist today because I was exposed to mind-bending paleoart from a young age. Brian cares about paleoart–he cares about making better paleoart, himself, and he cares about making paleoart better, for everyone. And now he’s putting his money where his mouth his and doing something to hopefully bring more visibility to the paleoart community, and help move the field forward. That’s admirable, and I’m happy to support the cause.

Also, when we visited the Aquilops display at Dinosaur Journey this summer, we were lucky enough to capture this single frame showing a 100% real paleo-energy discharge. I definitely felt something at the time, but I didn’t know the full extent of what had happened until Brian sorted through our photos after the trip. Apparently this was all fated to happen–some kind of transdimensional chronoparticle emission linking past and future–and who am I to argue with fate?

Now, go summon monsters!

I was back in Utah the week before last, looking for monsters with Brian Engh and Jessie Atterholt. It was a successful hunt – more about that another time.

We made a run to Fruita, Colorado, to visit Dinosaur Journey. I was just there in May, picking up Haplocanthosaurus caudals for CT scanning (and other fun things). We picked up another specimen this time, for a different project – more on that in another post, too.

Not this one, but like this one. An apatosaurine middle caudal vertebra, MWC 5742, in left lateral view.

There’s a nice ceratopsian exhibit up at Dinosaur Journey right now, with cast skulls from many of the new ceratopsians that have been described in the past couple of decades. My near-favorites were Zuniceratops and Diabloceratops, both of which are small enough that they must have been adorable in life (think pony-sized and big-horse-sized, respectively).

My absolute favorite, of course, was this little thing:

I can tell you exactly how Aquilops came to be on display there. Julia McHugh printed a copy of the holotype, because it’s freely available to the world. And she used Brian’s Aquilops head recon in the signage (correctly, with attribution), because it’s also freely available to the world. In fact, I’ve seen Aquilops on display at several museums now for just those reasons. So, folks, if you want your critters to be seen, make them open. Hiring a paleoartist to do some awesome artwork that can be released under a CC-BY license (because you paid them, not because you asked them to give their art away for “exposure”) is a huge help.

We had to geek out a little about unexpectedly finding ‘our’ dinosaur on display:

But of course it is not our dinosaur anymore – that’s the whole point. Aquilops belongs to the world.

For more on our trip, see Jessie’s posts herehere, and here.