Showing posts with label dinosaurs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dinosaurs. Show all posts

Monday 15 March 2021

Distorted Darwin: common misconceptions about evolution and natural selection

A few months' ago, I discussed how disagreements with religious texts can lead the devout to disagree with key scientific theories; presumably this is a case of fundamentalists denying the fundamentals? Of all the areas of scientific research that cause issues today, it is evolutionary biology that generates the most opposition. This is interesting in so many ways, not least because the primary texts of the Abrahamic religions have little to say on the topic beyond the almost universal elements seen in creation myths, namely that one or more superior beings created all life on Earth and that He/They placed humanity at the zenith.

Thanks to opposition to the modern evolutionary synthesis, there is a plethora of misinformation, from material taken out of context to complete falsehoods, that is used to promote Creationist ideas rather than scientifically-gleaned knowledge. Even those with well-meaning intentions often make mistakes when condensing the complexity of the origin and history of life into easy-to-digest material. I've previously written about the concepts of evolutionary bushes rather than ladders, concurrent rather than consecutive radiation of sister species and speciation via punctuated equilibrium (i.e., the uneven pace of evolution) so here are a few other examples where the origin, implications and illustrations of natural selection has been distorted or overly simplified to the point of inaccuracy.

I've previously mentioned that Charles Darwin was the earliest discoverer - but only a decade or two ahead of Alfred Russel Wallace - of natural selection, and not as is often written, evolution per se. However, this is not completely accurate. Darwin's hypothesis was more complete than Wallace's, in the sense of being entirely scientific and therefore testable. Wallace on the other hand maintained there must have been divine intervention in the creation of our species, making us different from all other life forms.

In addition, there were several precursors who partially formulated ideas regarding natural selection, but who were unable to promote a consistent, evidence-based hypothesis to anywhere near the extent that Darwin achieved. For example, as early as 1831 the Scottish agriculturalist Patrick Matthew published some notes on what he termed 'new diverging ramifications of life' as he thought must occur after mass extinctions. Nevertheless, he failed to expand and fully explain his ideas, seemingly unaware of where they could lead. In this sense, he is a minor figure compared to the thorough research Darwin undertook to back up his hypothesis. 

Darwin appears to have been unaware of Matthew's ideas, although the same could not be said for Robert Chambers' (anonymous) 1844 publication Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation, which although highly speculative contained some kernels of truth about the mechanisms behind biological evolution. Just as Thomas Malthus' 1798 An Essay on the Principle of Population inspired Darwin, so the mid-nineteenth century contained other combinations of ideas and real-world inspiration that provided,an ideal background for the formulation of natural selection. In other words, the conditions were ready for those with the correct mindset to uncover the mechanism behind evolution. What Darwin did was to combine the inspiration with an immense amount of rigour, including examples taken from selective breeding.

Another frequently quoted fallacy is that evolution always maintains a single direction from earlier, simpler organisms to later, more complex ones. I've covered this before in discussions of the evolution of our own species, as many popular biology accounts seek parallels between technological progress and a central branch of animal evolution leading ever upwards until it produced us. 

Modern techniques such as genetic analysis and sophisticated examination of fossils - including scanning their internal cavities – has negated this appealing but incorrect idea. For example, mammals evolved around the same time as the dinosaurs (and over one hundred million years before flowering plants) while parasitic species often have a far more rudimentary structure than their ancestors. 

Despite this, we still see countless illustrations showing a clear-cut path from primordial organisms 'up' to Homo sapiens. No-one who has seen the cranial endocast of a dinosaur would consider it to be superior to even the least intelligent of mammals, although the later medium-sized carnivorous species were on the way to developing a bird-like brain-to-body mass ratio. Yet throughout the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods, dinosaurs filled most ecological niches at the expense of the mammals; you would be hard-pressed to state that the latter were the dominant type of land organism during the Mesozoic!

Research published last year shows that New Zealand's unique tuatara, the sole remaining member of the Rhynchocephalia, is a reptile that shares some genetic similarities to the Monotremata, the egg-laying mammalian species known as platypus and echidna. In addition, a report from the beginning of this year states that the ancestors of today's five monotreme species diverged from all other mammals 187 million years ago; therefore, they have spent approximately three times as long on their own evolutionary journey as they did when part of all the other mammalian lineages. As a result of retaining many ancestral features, the platypus genome is in some ways more like that of birds and reptiles rather than placental and marsupial mammals. But we still include them amongst the mammals rather than as a hybrid or separate class; both platypus and echidna have fur, are warm-blooded and produce milk (although with a unique delivery system!) This allows their inclusion in Mammalia; does this mean we arbitrarily allow certain traits and discard others?

Would it be fair to say that the boundaries we make between organisms are more for our convenience than the underlying reality? Are you happy to label birds as 'avian dinosaurs' and if not, why not? If they had feathers, nests and even underground burrows, some dinosaurs were clearly part of the way there; physiologically, it was teeth, bony tail, and a crocodilian-type brain that provided the differentiation from birds. Scans of fossils show that dinosaur hearts may have been more like birds than other reptiles, which along with the possible discovery of bird-like air sacs, means that they could have had something of the former's more active lifestyle. 

This doesn't confirm that they were warm-blooded: today there are eight species, including leatherback turtles, that are mesothermic and therefore lie between warm- and cold-blooded metabolisms. Eggshell analysis suggests that some of the theropod (carnivorous) dinosaurs could have been warm-blooded, but as dinosaurs existed for around 165 million years it may be that some evolved to be mesothermic and others to be endothermic (i.e., fully warm-blooded). In this respect then, some meat-eating dinosaurs especially may have had more in common with us mammals than they did with other reptiles such as lizards and snakes.

All this only goes to show that there is far more to life's rich pageant than the just-so stories still used to illustrate the history of life. Science communication to the public is fundamental to our society but it needs to present the awkward complexities of evolution via all the tortured pathways of natural selection if it is not to fall victim to those who prefer myths of the last few thousand years to the history of countless millennia, as revealed in the genes and rocks waiting for us to explore.


Friday 11 January 2019

Hot, cold or in between: thermoregulation and public misunderstanding of science

I recently spotted an intriguing paleontology article concerning the 180 million year old fossil remains of an ichthyosaur, a marine reptile from the Early Jurassic. The beastie, belonging to the genus Stenopterygius,  is so well preserved that it shows coloration patterns (if not the colours themselves) on patches of scaleless skin, as well as a thick layer of insulating fat or blubber. What makes the latter so intriguing is that reptiles just aren't meant to have blubber. Then again, like some snakes and skinks today, ichthyosaurs must have given birth to live young. Thus the gap between reptiles and mammals surely grows ever smaller?

This conundrum touches on some interesting issues about the public's knowledge of science. Several times I've commented on what Richard Dawkins calls the "tyranny of the discontinuous mind", which is the way in which we use categorisation to make it easier to understand the world. It might seem that this is the very essence of some aspects of science, as in New Zealand physicist Ernest Rutherford's famously ungenerous quote that "Physics is the only real science. The rest are just stamp collecting." Indeed, examination of the life and work of many early botanists for example might appear to verify this statement. However, there needs to be an understanding that science requires a flexibility of mind set, a fundamental scientific process being the discarding of a pet theory in favour of a more accurate one.

I'm sure I've remarked countless times - again, echoing Professor Dawkins - that science is in this respect the antithesis of most religions, which set key ideas into stone and refuse to accept any challenges towards them. In the case of the blubber-filled Stenopterygius, it is still a reptile, albeit one that had many of the attributes of mammals. As for the latter, from our pre-school picture books onwards we tend to think of the main mammalian subclass, the placentals, but there are two smaller subclasses: the marsupials, such as the kangaroo; and the monotremes, for example the duck-billed platypus. It has been known since the 1880s that the platypus lays eggs rather than giving birth to live young, a characteristic it shares with the other four monotreme species alive today. In addition, their body temperature is five degrees Celsius lower than that of placental mammals, part of a suite of features presumably retained from their mammal-like reptile ancestors.

Even so, these traits do not justify the comment made by host Stephen Fry in a 2005 episode of the BBC TV quiz show QI, when he claimed that marsupials are not mammals! Richard Dawkins has frequently pointed out that it would be unacceptable to have a similar level of ignorance about the arts as there is on scientific matters, with this being a clear case in point as regards the cultured and erudite Mr Fry. Yet somehow, much of the general public has either a lack or a confusion concerning basic science. Indeed, only  last week I listened to a BBC Radio topical comedy show in which none of the panel members could work out why one face of the moon is always hidden from our view. Imagine the response if it had been a basic lack of knowledge in the arts and literature, for example if an Oxbridge science graduate had claimed that Jane Austen had written Hamlet!

Coming back to the ichthyosaur, one thing we may have learnt as a child is that some animals are warm-blooded and others cold-blooded. This may be useful as a starting point but it is an overly-simplistic and largely outmoded evaluation of the relevant biology; the use of such binary categorisation is of little use after primary school age. In fact, there is series of steps from endothermic homeotherms (encompassing most mammals and birds) to ectothermic poikilotherms (most species of fish, reptiles, amphibians and invertebrates), with the former metabolic feature having evidently developed from the latter.

Ichthyosaurs are likely to have had one of the intermediate metabolisms, as may have been the case for some species of dinosaurs, possibly the smaller, feathered, carnivorous theropods. Likewise, some tuna and shark species are known to be able to produce heat internally, but in 2015 researchers at the US National Marine Fisheries Service announced that five species of the opah fish were found to be whole-body endotherms. Clearly, the boundaries between us supposedly higher mammals and everything else is far less secure than we had previously believed.

At times, science terminology might appear as too abstruse, too removed from the everyday and of little practical use outside of a pub quiz, but then does being able to critique Shakespeare or Charles Dickens help to reduce climate change or create a cure for cancer? Of course we should strive to be fully-rounded individuals, but for too long STEM has been side-lined or stereotyped as too difficult or irrelevant when compared with the humanities.

Lack of understanding of the subtleties and gradations (as opposed to clearly defined boundaries) in science make it easy for anti-science critics to generate public support. Ironically, this criticism tends to take one of two clearly opposing forms: firstly, that science is mostly useless - as epitomised by the Ig Nobel Prize; and alternatively, that it leads to dangerous inventions, as per the tabloid scare-mongering around genetically modified organisms (GMOs) or 'Frankenfoods' as they are caricatured.

Being able to discern nuanced arguments such as the current understanding of animal thermoregulation is a useful tool for all of us. Whether it is giving the public a chance to vote in scientifically-related referendums or just arming them so as to avoid quack medicine, STEM journalism needs to improve beyond the lazy complacency that has allowed such phrases as 'warm-blooded', 'living fossil', 'ice age' and 'zero gravity' to be repeatedly misused. Only then will science be seen as the useful, relevant and above all a much more approachable discipline than it is currently deemed to be.

Monday 27 August 2018

Hammer and chisel: the top ten reasons why fossil hunting is so important

At a time when the constantly evolving world of consumer digital technology seems to echo the mega-budget, cutting-edge experiments of the LHC and LIGO, is there still room for such an old-fashioned, low-tech science as paleontology?

The answer is of course yes, and while non-experts might see little difference between its practice today and that of its Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century pioneers, contemporary paleontology does on occasion utilise MRI scanners among other sophisticated equipment. I've previously discussed the delights of fossil hunting as an easy way to involve children in science, yet the apparent simplicity of its core techniques mask the key role that paleontology still plays in evolutionary biology.

Since the days of Watson and Crick molecular biology has progressed in leaps and bounds, yet the contemporary proliferation of cheap DNA-testing kits and television shows devoted to gene-derived genealogy obscure just how tentatively some of their results should be accepted. The levels of accuracy quoted in non-specialist media is often far greater than what can actually be attained. For example, the data on British populations has so far failed to separate those with Danish Viking ancestry from descendants of earlier Anglo-Saxon immigration, leading to population estimates at odds with the archaeological evidence.


Here then is a list of ten reasons why fossil hunting will always be a relevant branch of science, able to supply information that cannot be supplied by other scientific disciplines:
  1. Locations. Although genetic evidence can show the broad sweeps connecting extant (and occasionally, recently-extinct) species, the details of where animals, plants or fungi evolved, migrated to - and when - relies on fossil evidence.
  2. Absolute dating. While gene analysis can be used to obtain the dates of a last common ancestor shared by contemporary species, the results are provisional at best for when certain key groups or features evolved. Thanks to radiometric dating from some fossiliferous locales, paleontologists are able to fill in the gaps in fossil-filled strata that don't have radioactive mineralogy.
  3. Initial versus canonical. Today we think of land-living tetrapods (i.e. amphibians, reptiles, mammals and birds) as having a maximum of five digits per limb. Although these are reduced in many species – as per horse's hooves – five is considered canonical. However, fossil evidence shows that early terrestrial vertebrates had up to eight digits on some or all of their limbs. We know genetic mutation adds extra digits, but this doesn't help reconstruct the polydactyly of ancestral species; only fossils provide confirmation.
  4. Extinct life. Without finding their fossils, we wouldn't know of even such long-lasting and multifarious groups as the dinosaurs: how could we guess about the existence of a parasaurolophus from looking at its closest extant cousins, such as penguins, pelicans or parrots? There are also many broken branches in the tree of life, with such large-scale dead-ends as the pre-Cambrian Ediacaran biota. These lost lifeforms teach us something about the nature of evolution yet leave no genetic evidence.
  5. Individual history. Genomes show the cellular state of an organism, but thanks to fossilised tooth wear, body wounds and stomach contents (including gastroliths) we have important insights into day-to-day events in the life of ancient animals. This has led to fairly detailed biographies of some creatures, prominent examples being Sue the T-Rex and Al the Allosaurus, their remains being comprehensive enough to identify various pathologies.
  6. Paleoecology. Coprolites (fossilised faeces), along with the casts of burrows, help build a detailed enviromental picture that zoology and molecular biology cannot provide. Sometimes the best source of vegetation data comes from coprolites containing plant matter, due to the differing circumstances of decomposition and mineralisation.
  7. External appearance. Thanks to likes of scanning electron microscopes, fossils of naturally mummified organisms or mineralised skin can offer details that are unlikely to be discovered by any other method. A good example that has emerged in the past two decades is the colour of feathered dinosaurs obtained from the shape of their melanosomes.
  8. Climate analysis. Geological investigation can provide ancient climate data but fossil evidence, such as the giant insects of the Carboniferous period, confirm the hypothesis. After all, dragonflies with seventy centimetre wingspans couldn't survive with today's level of atmospheric oxygen.
  9. Stratigraphy. Paleontology can help geologists trying to sequence an isolated section of folded stratigraphy that doesn't have radioactive mineralogy. By assessing the relative order of known fossil species, the laying down of the strata can be placed in the correct sequence.
  10. Evidence of evolution. Unlike the theories and complex equipment used in molecular biology, anyone without expert knowledge can visit fossils in museums or in situ. They offer a prominent resource as defence against religious fundamentalism, as their ubiquity makes them difficult to explain by alternative theories. The fact that species are never found in strata outside their era supports the scientific view of life's development rather than those found in religious texts (the Old Testament, for example, erroneously states that birds were created prior to all other land animals).
To date, no DNA has been found over about 800,000 years old. This means that many of the details of the history of life rely primarily on fossil evidence. It's therefore good to note that even in an age of high-tech science, the painstaking techniques of paleontology can shed light on biology in a way unobtainable by more recent examples of the scientific toolkit. Of course, the study is far from fool-proof: it is thought that only about ten percent of all species have ever come to light in fossil form, with the found examples heavily skewed in favour of shallow marine environments.

Nevertheless, paleontology is a discipline that constantly proves its immense value in expanding our knowledge of the past in a way no religious text could ever do. It may be easy to understand what fossils are, but they are assuredly worth their weight in gold: precious windows onto an unrecoverable past.

Sunday 15 January 2017

Devoted to dinosaurs: Joan Wiffen and the role of the amateur scientist

I was recently at a second hand book stall, browsing a first edition of Graeme Steven's Prehistoric New Zealand. The market stall owner told me that she had thumbed through the book and was amazed to learn that New Zealand had any wildlife prior to the moa. This seemingly widespread lack of knowledge about the nation's past is no doubt partially due to the small number of both practitioners and finds, although the state education system cannot be considered blameless. Still, in an age of easily-accessible information via the World Wide Web and the likes of the National Geographic Channel, such gaps do seem rather surprising.

Of course a lack of public knowledge concerning ancient life isn't restricted to New Zealand. I recall several amusing (yes, I know it sounds smug) encounters at London's Natural History Museum, where I discovered that parents of dinosaur-crazed children cannot differentiate giant ground sloths from dinosaurs, let alone bipedal carnosaurs from quadrupedal sauropods.

The poor understanding of New Zealand's past is exacerbated by the low population and correspondingly small amount of funding available. Therefore perhaps it's not surprising that amateurs have made significant discoveries, from the Hamilton Junior Naturalist Club's discovery of a giant penguin fossil at Kawhia to Joan Wiffen, the 'Hawke's Bay housewife' (an epithet that always causes me to grit my teeth) who discovered New Zealand's first dinosaur fossils and much more besides.

I've previously discussed the joys of amateur fossicking from a primarily fun aspect but also mentioned how New Zealand relies on non-professionals. The Kawhia penguin is a case in point, as it would have eroded within a year had it not been discovered. Indeed, I was recently collecting some Pleistocene marine molluscs above a Taranaki river valley, on a steep slope prone to severe flooding. These fossils had been uncovered following a landslide caused by a severe rainstorm in 2015 and would no doubt be washed away with the next one.

Fossil hunting in New Zealand

In addition to the lack of professionals, the discipline's funding within New Zealand has decreased over the past half century. The Marsden Fund is a key sponsor of science projects but less than 10% of proposals are successful. The obvious wider issue here is that for the foreseeable future there is unlikely to be any private funding for scientific research that isn't financially viable in the short-term; let's face it, most paleontology isn't going to earn big bucks. That isn't to say there aren't some income streams available, especially around museums, merchandise and occasionally site tourism. However, New Zealand's dinosaur, marine reptile and pterosaur remains are mostly isolated fragments, hardly likely to prove star attractions for even the most ardent dino enthusiast.

Which brings us back to Joan Wiffen. She went from a minimal secondary education (due to her father's prejudice) to an honorary science degree from Massey University - whilst still supporting the view that it is the duty of married women to do all the housework. Although she may not have actively negated the Hawke's Bay housewife appellation, the term is hardly suitable for an extremely conscientious scientist; after all, if her husband had been the team leader, he probably wouldn't have been referred to as a Hawke's Bay electronics technician!

Having recently finished reading Wiffen's 1991 book Valley of the Dragons: The Story of New Zealand's Dinosaur Woman I was struck by the obvious lack of professional expertise available in New Zealand as recently as the 1970s and 1980s. Even today, the thirty or so professional paleontologists in the country don't have their own organisation and fall under the auspices of the Geoscience Society of New Zealand. Yet I've long considered geology to be an extremely conservative discipline (think that meteorologist Alfred Wegener's continental drift hypothesis gained little traction for decades until evidence of plate tectonics was found, rather than there being any active interest in resolving the mystery) and so can do few favours to outsiders.

Therefore, Joan Wiffen faced almost complete indifference from scientists who proclaimed there were no relevant strata in which to locate dinosaur remains. Apparently someone had previously noticed reptilian bones in a Te Hoe Valley stream bed - which is what sparked off Wiffen's first expedition - but no-one had the interest or funding to follow it up. Her narrative hints at the disdain professionals felt for amateurs in general but happily this situation has changed markedly in the interim, with citizen science helping to bridge gaps in many fields. In the case of New Zealand paleontology, the notable finds by amateurs have included previously unknown species, adding to the evidence that areas of the 'lost' continent of Zealandia have been continually above water since the Mesozoic.

My recent Taranaki excursion was child's play compared to the deprivations Wiffen and co endured in their rat-infested self-built hut, not to mention funding the entire work themselves. From learning how to remove rock matrix via acetic acid (in an old baby bath, no less) to building a stereo microscope stand from a pillar drill base, the Hawke's Bay team certainly utilised classic kiwi number eight wire ingenuity.

In a pre-internet age - it took six months just to pin down the location and land owner of the area marked 'reptile bones' - gaining technical advice from foreign experts was slow and cumbersome. Ironically, in later years New Zealand professionals visited Wiffen's fossil preparation workshop to gain insight into their operation, including as to how she and her friends achieved such high standards. Clearly, her work wasn't the product of a casual dilettante but the output of a highly motivated and hard-working scientist, albeit an unpaid one.

The American paleontologist and evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould frequently observed that his disciplines were forms of historical science, built upon a series of unrepeatable events created by the complex interaction of disparate factors. Therefore deposition and preservation - even the discovery - of fossils are unique circumstances; remains that are visible today may be little more than dust tomorrow. We owe Joan Wiffen and her colleagues an enormous debt for increasing the sum of human knowledge at their own time and expense, purely for the love of science. And if any Hawke's Bay residents want to pick up where she left off, then I'm sure both professionals and posterity would be most grateful!

Tuesday 26 January 2016

Spreading the word: 10 reasons why science communication is so important

Although there have been science-promoting societies since the Renaissance, most of the dissemination of scientific ideas was played out at royal courts, religious foundations or for similarly elite audiences. Only since the Royal Institution lectures of the early 19th century and such leading lights as Michael Faraday and Sir Humphry Davy has there been any organised communication of the discipline to the general public.

Today, it would appear that there is a plethora - possibly even a glut - in the market. Amazon.com carries over 192,000 popular science books and over 4,000 science documentary DVD titles, so there's certainly plenty of choice! Things have dramatically improved since the middle of the last century, when according to the late evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould, there was essentially no publicly-available material about dinosaurs.

From the ubiquity of the latter (especially since the appearance of Steven Spielberg's originally 1993 Jurassic Park) it might appear that most science communication is aimed at children - and, dishearteningly, primarily at boys - but this really shouldn't be so. Just as anyone can take evening courses in everything from pottery to a foreign language, why shouldn't the public be encouraged to understand some of the most important current issues in the fields of science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM), at the same time hopefully picking up key methods of the discipline?

As Carl Sagan once said, the public are all too eager to accept the products of science, so why not the methods? It may not be important if most people don't know how to throw a clay pot on a wheel or understand why a Cubist painting looks as it does, but it certainly matters as to how massive amounts of public money are invested in a project and whether that research has far-reaching consequences.
Here then are the points I consider the most important as to why science should be popularised in the most accessible way - although without oversimplifying the material to the point of distortion:

1. Politicians and the associated bureaucracy need basic understanding of some STEM research, often at the cutting edge, in order to generate new policies. Yet as I have previously examined, few current politicians have a scientific background. If our elected leaders are to make informed decisions, they need to understand the science involved. It's obvious, but then if the summary material they are supplied with is incorrect or deliberately biased, the outcome may not be the most appropriate one. STEM isn't just small fry: in 2010 the nations with the ten highest research and development budgets had a combined spend of over US$1.2 trillion.

2. If public money is being used for certain projects, then taxpayers are only able to make valid disagreements as to how their money is spent if they understand the research (military R&D excepted of course, since this is usually too hush-hush for the rest of us poor folk to know about). In 1993 the US Government cancelled the Superconducting Super Collider particle accelerator as it was deemed good science but not affordable science. Much as I love the results coming out of the Large Hadron Collider, I do worry that the immense amount of funding (over US$13 billion spent by 2012) might be better used elsewhere on other high-technology projects with more immediate benefits. I've previously discussed both the highs and lows of nuclear fusion research, which surely has to be one of the most important areas in mega-budget research and development today?

3. Criminal law serves to protect the populace from the unscrupulous, but since the speed of scientific advances and technological change run way ahead of legislation, public knowledge of the issues could help prevent miscarriages of justice or at least wasting money. The USA population has spent over US$3 billion on homeopathy, despite a 1997 report by the President of the National Council Against Health Fraud that stated "Homeopathy is a fraud perpetrated on the public." Even a basic level of critical thinking might help in the good fight against baloney.

4. Understanding of current developments might lead to reliance as much on the head as the heart. For example, what are the practical versus moral implications for embryonic stem cell research (exceptionally potent with President Obama's State of the Union speech to cure cancer). Or what about the pioneering work in xenotransplantation: could the next few decades see the use of genetically-altered pig hearts to save humans, and if so would patients with strong religious convictions agree to such transplants?

5. The realisation that much popular journalism is sensationalist and has little connection to reality. The British tabloid press labelling of genetically-modified crops as 'Frankenstein foods' is typical of the nonsense that clouds complex and serious issues for the sake of high sales. Again, critical thinking might more easily differentiate biased rhetoric from 'neutral' facts.

6. Sometimes scientists can be paid to lie. Remember campaigns with scientific support from the last century that stated smoking tobacco is good for you or that lead in petrol is harmless? How about the DuPont Corporation refusing to stop CFC production, with the excuse that capitalist profit should outweigh environmental degradation and the resulting increase in skin cancer? Whistle-blowers have often been marginalised by industry-funded scientists (think of the initial reaction to Rachel Carson concerning DDT) so it's doubtful anything other than knowledge of the issues would penetrate the slick corporate smokescreen.

7. Knowing the boundaries of the scientific method - what science can and cannot tell us and what should be left to other areas of human activity - is key to understanding where the discipline should fit into society. I've already mentioned the moral implications and whether research can be justified due to the potential outcome, but conversely, are there habits and rituals, or just societal conditioning, that blinds us to what could be achieved with public lobbying to governments?

8. Nations may be enriched as a whole by cutting out nonsense and focusing on solutions for critical issues, for example by not having to waste time and money explaining that global warming and evolution by natural selection are successful working theories due to the mass of evidence. Notice how uncontroversial most astronomical and dinosaur-related popularisations are. Now compare to the evolution of our own species. Enough said!

9. Improving the public perspective of scientists themselves. A primary consensus still seems to promote the notion of lone geniuses, emotionally removed from the rest of society and frequently promoting their own goals above the general good. Apart from the obvious ways in which this conflicts with other points already stated, much research is undertaken by large, frequently multi-national teams; think Large Hadron Collider, of course. Such knowledge may aid removal of the juvenile Hollywood science hero (rarely a heroine) and increase support for the sustained efforts that require public substantial funding (nuclear fusion being a perfect example).

10. Reducing the parochialism, sectarianism and their associated conflict that if anything appears to be on the increase. It's a difficult issue and unlikely that it could be a key player but let's face it, any help here must be worth trying. Neil deGrasse Tyson's attitude is worth mentioning: our ideological differences seem untenable against a cosmic perspective. Naïve perhaps, but surely worth the effort?

Last year Bill Gates said: "In science, we're all kids. A good scientist is somebody who has redeveloped from scratch many times the chain of reasoning of how we know what we know, just to see where there are holes." The more the rest of us understand this, isn't there a chance we would notice the holes in other spheres of thought we currently consider unbending? This can only be a good thing, if we wish to survive our turbulent technological adolescence.

Monday 28 September 2015

Resurrecting megafauna: the various problems of de-extinction


The record-breaking success of Jurassic World proves that if there's anything a lot of people want to see in the animal kingdom it is species that are both large and fierce. Unfortunately, in these post-glacial times that type of fauna has been much reduced and will no doubt wane even further - not that I particularly wish to encounter an apex predator at close quarters, you understand.

Hollywood, of course, has much to answer for. There was plenty of poor science in the original Jurassic Park movie - the use of gap-filling frog DNA being a far worse crime in my book than the over-sized velociraptors (think Achillobator and similar species) but the most recent film in the franchise has pointedly ignored the advances in dinosaur knowledge made in the intervening period. Perhaps a CGI test of a feathered T-Rex looked just to comical?

In contrast, the amount of publically-available material discussing de-extinction has increased exponentially in the two decades since Jurassic Park was released, with the line between fact and fiction well and truly blurred. That's not to say that an enormous amount hasn't been learned about the DNA of extinct species during this period. I recently watched a rather good documentary on the National Geographic channel (yes, it does occasionally happen) about the one-month old baby mammoth Lyuba, recovered in Siberia almost forty-two thousand years after she died. The amount of genetic information that has been recovered from mammoths is now extremely comprehensive, but then they were alive until almost yesterday at geological timescales. Needless to say the further back in time a creature existed, the more problematic it is to retrieve any genetic material.

A lot has been written about the methods that have been, or could in the near future, be used to resurrect ancient animals. Some procedures involve the use of contemporary species as surrogate parents, such as elephants standing in for mother mammoths. But it seems fair to say that all such projects are finding difficulties rather greater than originally planned. One common misconception is that any resurrected animal would be a pure example of its kind. Even the numerous frozen mammoth carcasses have failed to supply anywhere near a complete genome and of course it isn't just a case of filling in gaps as per a jigsaw puzzle: one primary issue is how to know where each fragment fits into the whole. Our knowledge of genetics may have advanced enormously since Watson and Crick's landmark 1953 paper, but genetic engineering is still incredibly difficult even with species that are alive today. After all, Dolly the sheep wasn't a pure clone, but had nuclear DNA from one donor and mitochondrial DNA from another.

Therefore instead of resurrecting extinct species we would be engineering hybrid genomes. Jurassic World took this process to the extreme with Indominus rex, a giant hybrid of many species including cuttlefish! Some research suggests that the most of the original genes of any species over a million years old – and therefore including all dinosaurs – might never be recovered. Something  terrible lizard-ish may be built one day, but it would be closer to say, a chicken, with added teeth, a long bony tail and a serious attitude problem. In fact, George Lucas has been a key funder of the chickenosaurus project with aims along these lines. Let's hope he doesn't start building an army of them, totally obedient clones, ready for world domination…oh no, that was fiction, wasn't it?

But if – or more likely, when – creating variants of extinct species becomes possible, should we even attempt it? Apart from the formidable technical challenges, a lot of the drive behind it seems to be for populating glorified wildlife parks, or even worse, game reserves. The mock TV documentary series Prehistoric Park for example only contained large animals from various periods, frequently fierce carnivores, with no attention given to less conspicuous creatures or indeed flora. This gee-whiz mentality seems to follow a lot of the material written about de-extinction, masking some very serious long-term issues in favour of something akin to old-style menageries. Jurassic Park, in fact.

A big question that would be near impossible to answer in advance is whether such a species would be able to thrive or even survive in a climate far removed from the original, unless there was major genetic engineering just for such adaptive purposes. Again, the further back the animal lived, the less likely it is that there is a contemporary habitat close to the original. It may be possible to recreate glacial steppes suitable for some mammoth species, but what about the Earth of ten million or one hundred million years ago? Prehistoric Park got around the issue for its Carboniferous megafauna by housing them in a high oxygen enclosure, which is certainly a solution, if something of a fire hazard!

Any newly-created animal will lack the symbiotic microbial fauna and flora of the original era, but I've not seen much that tackles this issue. I suppose there could be a multi-stage process, starting with deliberate injections of material in vitro (or via the host /mother). But once the animal is born it will have to exist with whatever the local environment/habitat has to offer. The chimerical nature of the organism may help provide a solution, but again this takes the creature even further from the original.

Then there is the rather important issue of food. To his credit, Michael Crichton suggested in Jurassic Park that herbivorous dinosaurs swallowing gizzard stones might accidentally eat berries that their metabolism couldn't handle. It would be extremely expensive to maintain compounds large enough for megafauna that are constantly kept free of wind-blown, bird-dropped and otherwise invasive material dangerous to the animals.

If the hybrids were allowed free reign, what if they escaped or were able to breed naturally? Given a breeding population (as opposed to say, sterilised clones) evolution via natural selection may lead them in a new direction. It would be wise to consider them as an integral part of the ecosystem into which they are placed, remembering Darwin's metaphor of ten thousand sharp wedges. Is there a possibility that they could out-compete modern species or in some other way exacerbate the contemporary high rate of extinction?

I've previously discussed the dangers of deliberate introduction of foreign species for biological control purposes: surely introducing engineered hybrids of extinct species is the ultimate example of this process? Or would there be a complete ban on natural reproduction for resurrected species, with each generation hand-reared from a bank of genetic material? At this point it should be clear that it isn't just the nomenclature that is confusing.

Some research has been undertaken to investigate the de-extinction of species whose demise during the past few centuries can clearly be blamed on humans, obvious examples being the Tasmanian tiger and the nine species of New Zealand moa. It could be claimed that this has more to do with alleviating guilt than serving a useful purpose (assuaging crimes against the ecosystem, as it were) but even in these cases the funds might be better turned towards more pressing issues. After all, two-thirds of amphibian species are currently endangered, largely due to direct human action. That's not to say that such money would then be available, since for example, a wealthy business tycoon who wants to sponsor mammoth resurrection - and they do exist - wouldn't necessarily transfer their funding to engineering hardier crops or revitalising declining pollinating insect species such as bees.

As it happens, even species that existed until a few hundred years ago have left little useable fragments of DNA, the dodo being a prime example. That's not to say that it won't one day be retrievable, as shown by the quagga, which was the first extinct species to have its DNA recovered, via a Nineteenth Century pelt.

As Jeff Goldman's chaos mathematician says in Jurassic Park, "scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn't stop to think if they should". Isn't that a useful consideration for any endeavour into the unknown? If there's one thing that biological control has shown, it is to expect the unexpected. The Romans may have enjoyed animal circuses, but we need to think carefully before we create a high-tech living spectacle without rather more consideration to the wider picture than appears to currently be the case.



Thursday 26 March 2015

A roaring success? The Walking with Dinosaurs Arena Spectacular

Surely these days everyone loves dinosaurs? After all, the original Jurassic Park movie made over a billion US dollars worldwide, enough to generate a plethora of merchandise and three sequels. In a less fictional vein, the BBC's television series' Walking with Dinosaurs broke viewing records - perhaps just as well, considering its equally record-breaking budget - and led to several TV spin-offs, including a 3D feature film aimed at very young children.

But it's rare for a television documentary (or should that be docudrama?) series to spawn a live show, which is exactly what happened in 2007. Walking with Dinosaurs: The Arena Spectacular has to date has been seen by a worldwide audience of over eight million. Again, this probably all to the good, considering the enormous expense involved in the production. So having seen the television series on DVD, my daughters were desperate to go to the live show here in Auckland. Due to the expense of the tickets I hummed and hawed but eventually bowed under pressure. This was nothing to do with my own interest in seeing the event, of course!

So was it worth it? The ninety minute show followed the chronological order of the series, from late Triassic to the Cretaceous-Tertiary boundary. My first impression wasn't particularly good, as the narrator Huxley (incidentally I'm not sure what Thomas Henry Huxley would make of the enterprise, considering he was even against opening the Natural History Museum to the general public) explained about dinosaur footprints whilst lights projected some very oversized examples of the same. I assume the scale was to allow visibility from the furthest rows, but even so it seemed a bit clumsy. In my book, there's a fine line between artistic licence and poor science communication.

However, things improved with the arrival of the first beasts. Although it looked as if it was immediately heading in a Disneyesque direction when several cute herbivorous Plateosaurus hatched from a nest of eggs, this was quickly quelled when one hatchling was gobbled up by a Liliensternus. It was excellent to see Nature in warts and all mode - or should that be a literal 'red in tooth and claw' - considering that the audience largely consisted of pre-teen children and their parents? Talking of which, in some cases the roaring monsters and dramatic lighting proved too much, with a girl sitting near me spending more time cradled under her father's armpit rather than looking at the show. I was in general surprised by the lack of anthropomorphising elements that the 3D movie was criticised for, a brave move considering the target audience. Perhaps the major concession to the junior spectators was the young T. rex, whose weak attempts at imitating its far more powerful parent induced laughter from the audience.

In addition to describing the behaviour of the dinosaurs – and one pterosaur (a decent-enough marionette hung in front of poorly projected background footage, although my younger daughter initially thought it was a giant bat) Huxley also covered plate tectonics and the development of vegetation. At one point he even stuck his hand into a steaming pile of fresh herbivore poop to retrieve a dung beetle, leading to an explanation of food chains past and present. Both the inflatable growing ferns and a forest fire were particularly well done, as well as some simple yet charming butterflies made of what looked like coloured paper blown around by hidden fans. My children agreed that the only thing they didn't like were the skate platforms required to move the larger dinosaurs, although I found these less distracting than the marginally camouflaged operator legs in the smaller species. Interestingly, neither of my daughters asked how the larger species were controlled. I guess they've grown up in an age of electronic wonders and this was seen to be just another example of impressive technology.

Walking with Dinosaurs: The Arena Spectacular

So what about the educational element of the show? Edutainment can be a difficult balance as well as an appalling word. In addition to the lavish praise that it deserved, the original television series was criticised for presenting speculation as fact. In particular, the large size of some of the species has been questioned. However, the arena event did acknowledge some of the developments since the series was first broadcast fifteen years ago, such as by adding feathers (or proto-feathers) to the mother Tyrannosaurus and even more so to her juvenile.

Judging by the appreciative audience, many of the younger crowd members were already familiar with a wide range of dinolore. For example, as each animal starting entering the arena I could hear children as young as four or five shouting some of the names - and correctly. This created a pleasing contrast to many of the adult visitors to London's Natural History Museum, whom I recall not only failed to differentiate a sauropod from a T. rex but assumed that every large skeleton they saw must be a dinosaur (for example, the giant sloth Megatherium in the Fossil Marine Reptiles gallery).

But just how much of an interest in the giant beasts of the Mesozoic is likely to lead to a more detailed understanding of the wider world of palaeontology as the audience members grow older? Unfortunately, at times it was difficult to hear the narrator's details due to a combination of the sound effects and intense music, which whilst emotive and dramatic, had a tendency to drown out Huxley's description of the antediluvian scenes. Combined with the palpable excitement that most of the younger audience members were clearly experiencing, it's dubious just how much anyone learned during the show. The associated website does contain some educational material, although it makes such basic mistakes as listing the pterosaur Ornithocheirus in the list of dinosaurs.

You could suggest that dinosaurs have become just another part of the great consumerist machine, with any associated science a lucky by-product of flogging stuff. After all, dinosaur-related merchandise features highly in the range at many museum gift shops, even those with a marginal connection to the fauna, as discussed unfavourably several decades ago by evolutionary palaeontologist Stephen Jay Gould. It could be argued that any attempt to introduce science-based knowledge to the general public is a good idea, but with the quality of special effects in this live-action show as well as in film and television it may be difficult for children brought up on this material to separate fact from fiction. It is undoubtedly an exciting time for dinosaur discoveries, but science is more than just a series of facts: without the rigour and understanding, the material is subject to the same whims of fashion as the rest of popular culture. If science is to be promoted as the most objective methodology our species has for understanding such fascinating subjects as ancient mega fauna, we need to ensure that audiences are given enough of the reasoning besides all the roaring.

Thursday 29 January 2015

Unprofessional endeavours: amateur paleontology in New Zealand

There is currently an exhibition touring around New Zealand called Dinosaur Footprints: A Story of Discovery, which as its name suggests concerns traces of our much-beloved prehistoric beasts. Besides being the nation's first dinosaur footprints (known to science, that is) the story of their discovery is all the more interesting for their having been found by accident. In this particular case the discoverer was a professional geologist but in many cases New Zealand's great fossil discoveries have been equally serendipitous findings by amateurs.

Whilst New Zealand science is comparatively young, amateurs have always played a pivotal role in both the discovery and analysis of native fossils. Although the beginnings of Kiwi paleontology appear rather haphazard (see for example Quinn Berentson's superb Moa: The life and death of New Zealand's legendary bird for details on Walter Mantell, Julius von Haast and co.) the involvement of amateurs has far from diminished even today.

Although I've previously discussed non-professional fossicking before and even written a more New Zealand-focused April Fool's post, the more I've learnt about the Kiwi give-it-a-go approach the more I've wanted to write about the discipline from a local perspective.  Having undertaken three fossil hunts over the past year in the North Island (two successful, one a complete failure) I also now have some practical experience to aid me.

New Zealand fossil finds from 2014

There are several amateur New Zealand palaeontologists who have made key discoveries, perhaps the best known being Dave Allen and the late Joan Wiffen. The latter found the first dinosaur material in the country, as well as some Mesozoic marine reptile remains. And this was after many professionals claimed there was unlikely to be any such material in New Zealand! Dave Allen has also made some key finds and is occasionally even asked by the likes of Te Papa for advice.  Clearly, in a nation served by less than thirty full-time professionals, such people are able to make a big difference. To show it isn't just the province of adults, in 2006 children from the Hamilton Junior Naturalists Club found bones from a 35 million year old giant penguin, which just shows what a mind even semi-prepared for such material can discover.

One of the common misapprehensions about fossil hunting is that it involves excavation in the same way as is often required in archaeology. In fact, many fossils can be found eroding out of cliffs or roadside cuttings, or even found in loose material on beaches. Therefore there is a finite period between fossils being easy to spot and becoming worn down into useless fragments just by natural erosion, never mind man-made development. One report for example, suggests that weather will severely erode over fifty known fossil locations in the next half century. As such, it seems to make common sense that the more people trained to spot fossil material and be able to carefully extract it, the better. The late evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould, an expert on snails, once lamented that whilst in the Great Rift Valley he was unable to spot any of the hominin remains but instead homed in on the copious fossil snails that everyone else had missed!

This isn't to say that amateurs should have carte blanche. About one third of New Zealand's fossiliferous locations are protected from extraction due to the importance of the material. However, that still leaves at least thirty to forty sites that are easy for non-professionals to access whilst also allowing the removal of fossils. Amateurs are well served by both books and websites that supply details of locales and common fossil species. James Crampton and Marianna Terezow's family-friendly The Kiwi Fossil Hunter's Handbook is particularly good for the former whilst the same authors along with three others have written A Photographic Guide to Fossils of New Zealand, an invaluable resource. For the more serious amateurs, finds details can be found at resources such as the Fossil Record Electronic Database (FRED), which has over 86,000 locations. So all in all, there's plenty of help for the casual fossicker.

In addition to the argument that the greater the number of fossil hunters, the greater the opportunity to discover material before it is eroded, there is also the problem that the lack of professionals is apparently causing the loss of knowledge in basic areas such as taxonomy. According to James Crampton and Roger Cooper's 2010 report The State of Paleontology in New Zealand, around 40% of Cenezoic mollusc species have yet to be fully described. They state that there are still large areas of the country that have not been fully explored by palaeontologists so who knows what other surprises may lurking in the deep bush or hidden river valley?

There's even the slim chance that the involvement of amateurs may stimulate public interest and activity in important associated fields, such as the protection of endangered species, environmental pollution, sustainability and the promotion of science in general over woolly thinking. After all, it appears most politicians would rather side with big business than the greens, so only continuous and concerted efforts from a fair-sized element of the general public will likely aid the future state of the nation's environment. And that's not something any of us can afford to ignore, regardless of whether you are interested in the remains of organisms that have long since turned to stone.

Tuesday 1 April 2014

Dino wars: is that dinosaur Kiwi or Aussie?

It's a cheap piece of rhetoric to invoke the long-running if affectionate New Zealand-Australian rivalry, but what with the current campaign to redesign the New Zealand flag in order to differentiate it more its trans-Tasman neighbour, I thought it would be a good opportunity to discuss a science-themed story along these lines. In fact, the account bears some resemblance to the years spent arguing over Otzi, the Copper Age man found preserved in ice on the Austrian-Italian border. Although in this case, the focus of the disagreement isn't as clear-cut, since it concerns ancient remains found in both nations.

Even for a country with a population under five million, New Zealand has a seemingly minimal number of professional palaeontologists. That is, until you consider that the lack of industry application for the discipline's findings means its pretty good that there are any practitioners whatsoever. Numbers vary, but figures I have seen for the past few decades vary from less than a dozen to thirty or so professionals, most working for universities or state bodies. By comparison France, with twice the geographic area of New Zealand, has around one hundred professionals.

It isn't just the current financial crisis that has caused problems for would-be kiwi fossil hunters: funding has been steadily decreasing for the past half century and the emphasis shifted towards environmental research. This latter focuses on exploring the (very) long term changes that have affected not just the landmass as it is today but the largely submerged (90% or so) continent of Zealandia. This is of course extremely timely but it does enhance the idea that without much in the way of obvious practical returns, New Zealand palaeontology could dwindle to almost nothing. As it is, the country doesn't have a specialist palaeontological journal or even a dedicated palaeontological society.

The funding issue is claimed to be responsible for the loss of basic knowledge within the discipline, leading to problems such as taxonomic confusion and a backlog for formal descriptions, perhaps numbering some thousands of species, that are new to science. Of course New Zealand's distance from other nations doesn't help either, since the internet has frequently to be relied upon in lieu of direct representation at international conferences and the like. Therefore perhaps it's not surprising that there are only a couple of professional palaeontologists (part-time, at that) working on Mesozoic flora and fauna, including that much-loved clade, dinosaurs.

Luckily, this lack of professional numbers is partially redressed by dedicated amateurs, some of whom have played a pivotal role in dinosaur discoveries. The most famous is the late Joan Wiffen, who discovered New Zealand's first dinosaur fossils in 1974 after experts had proclaimed it unlikely any would be found (on the basis of the geological history of the current above sea-level land masses). I'm all for amateur fossicking and Joan Wiffen's four decades of dedication is an example to us all.

The heart of this piece concerns the discovery of the ninth dinosaur species found in New Zealand and serves as an instructive example of scientists at work knee-deep in messy reality rather than the unreachable ideal. One specimen that you won't find on FRED - the 95,000+ localities' Fossil Record Electronic Database - is the young theropod (carnivorous dinosaur) discovered in 2008 in New Zealand's dinosaur heartland, the Mangahouanga Stream between Taupo and Hawke's Bay. The specimen is only about forty centimetres long and is largely intact: a fully articulated skeleton only lacking a toe and a few tail end vertebrae. After 18 months careful preparation the reptile was in a suitable condition for high-level analysis, having - due to lack of budget - only received cursory examination during the removal of the overlying matrix. Having assessed the deposition layer as mid-Cretaceous the next obvious question was presumably which species did it belong to?

The most likely candidate for a species already scientifically described is the 5-6 metre gracile carnivore Australovenator wintonensis, which is known from fragmentary remains in central Queensland. At less than half a metre long, the New Zealand find would have to be a very young individual, which was the original opinion of the preparators. But the brief analysis of a visiting British palaeontologist put this into question, for although the upper jaw is missing from the adult Australovenator specimen, enough was present to suggest that the New Zealand skull is both too deep and too robust to be the same species. In addition, the kiwi remains has forearms that appear too long when compared to Australovenator, even accounting for variation in growth between youngster and adult.

Then in late 2009 the Australian Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology published an article claiming the New Zealand specimen was just an infant Australovenator. At this point patriotism started to kick in. Even though 'Australo' only means 'south' the word is close enough to the name of the larger nation to provoke the kiwi fossil community into a counter attack. A core group of Hawke's Bay-based amateur fossil hunters nicknamed the little dinosaur 'Hillaryonyx' (named after Everest pioneer Sir Edmund, of course) and the scene was set for a brontosaurus-sized brouhaha.

Although largely powerless, the passion of the non-professional fossicking community should not be underestimated. Everything that could be done to raise funding for a full analysis of the young reptile was undertaken: web articles were written, t-shirts were printed, even lyrics for a song called 'He's ours' (to the tune of the folk song 'No Moa!') On the basis of this, questions were asked in New Zealand parliament and as a result, and a bit of a whipround by some of the universities, money was found for eight months of part-time analysis by two palaeontologists with some experience on Mesozoic vertebrates. As mentioned previously, the reduction in funding for the discipline meant that there wasn't - and still isn't - a single full-time professional scientist dedicated to the era.

Once the analysis was complete the intention was to have a monograph published by GNS Science, a government-owned research institute, prior to public exhibition of the fossil. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, until several visiting Australian palaeontologists asked to see the prepared slab. They were at first stalled, and then later denied access, even to just photographs of the bones. Several arbitrary reasons were given, but the most likely motive for this behaviour was that the kiwi scientists were still assessing the species of the dinosaur. Which, given the loss of taxonomic knowledge mentioned above, was a tricky business if restricted to just New Zealand scientists. So much so, that it took the next two and a half years before anything further was heard.

The latest New Zealand dinosaur fossil

It's not known who was allowed to examine the fossil during this time but by late 2013 rumours surfaced that the dinosaur had been finally identified as a species new to science. A badly scanned interim report was leaked, containing several figures of the prepared fossil, included the photograph above. More significantly, the report listed eleven points of fundamental anatomical disparity with Australovenator, which have since proved enough to convince the majority of naysayers. The few who are still doubtful are all, needless to mention - but I will anyway - Australian. Until the beginning of this year it seemed the specimen would remain in limbo, but someone, somewhere, perhaps a leading university figure or government official, has pulled their finger out and New Zealand's latest endemic dinosaur species may soon be appearing in the records of the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN).

So not exactly an ideal way to pursue science by any stretch of the imagination. But the story is proof that cuts in funding can cause all sorts of problems for science in the long-term, even if the matter appears trivial to the layman.

Oh, and as for the official name for the creature: Stultusaurus aprillis. How appropriate!

Wednesday 25 August 2010

Carving niches: are there still roles for amateur scientists?

Until the mid-nineteenth century the majority of scientists seem to have been unsalaried, so the barrier between paid practitioners and the rest of us is relatively recent. It has been said that with the contemporary emphasis on expensive equipment and increasing specialisation there is no room for dabblers in the field, but there is plenty of evidence to negate this. A good starting point is this year's BBC Amateur Scientist of the Year competition, which garnered over 1300 applications, some admittedly a bit on the fruitier side. So whilst Britain doesn't have anything to compete with the USA's Society for Amateur Scientists, there's clearly no lack of enthusiasm.

But of course anyone can dream up a bizarre idea without putting in the 99% perspiration afterwards. It is the latter that proves the mettle of the amateur scientist, prepared to doggedly test a hypothesis or utilise scientific techniques as and when time becomes available. It also seems to be true that there are very few amateur theoreticians: by and large, if you engage in science for fun, you're a practical person at heart. Many dedicate years to the cause, from those who tally local wildlife numbers (occasionally identifying new species, of which there are still plenty to be described scientifically) to the likes of Simon Cansick, whose website provides constantly updated weather forecasting data for his Yorkshire village. Mr Cansick may sound like the archetypal British eccentric, but his level of accuracy has apparently caused local farmers to snub the Met Office in favour of http://www.dugglenet.org/ instead.

The two main areas I've always considered easy for an amateur to explore are astronomy and palaeontology, mostly because the necessary equipment is comparatively cheap and readily available. Whilst large telescopes can cost a fortune, some enthusiasts build at least some of the mount themselves (as recommended by Patrick Moore, no less), if not necessarily going to the lengths of the brother and sister team William and Caroline Herschel, who several centuries ago cast telescope mirrors using the likes of horse dung for moulds. As a child I had a small refractor which was reasonably adequate for the limited seeing conditions in the light polluted sky of my small home town. I did however build my own observatory shed, complete with a sliding roof made from old wardrobe doors. Ah, the folly of youth!

Whilst it may seem daft for backyard astronomers to compete with 10 metre reflectors and orbiting telescopes, the world record for visual discoveries of supernovae is held by the Australian amateur Robert Evans, who has mostly utilised a variety of reflectors with primary mirrors under 50cm. Another example of amateurs at the forefront is the Transitsearch.org network, which helps part-time astronomers hunt for extra-solar planets using a combination of backyard telescopes and digital cameras, although to be sure the latter need to be in the several thousand pounds range.

As for palaeontology, I have already covered the delights of fossicking in an earlier post, although sad to say my daughters recently came away empty-handed from a trip to the Isle of Wight. Chips off the old block, they were lulled into thinking they might find dinosaur bone or even pterosaur remains by a University of Portsmouth palaeontologist they spoke to at the Royal Society's Summer Science Exhibition. Instead, the family returned with depressingly lightweight sample bags, the stars of which were a heavily worn tooth (most likely crocodile) and a possible gastrolith. As a brief aside, I must mention that the Royal Society event at London's South Bank Centre was in itself a superb example of encouraging amateur participation in science, with even my four year old donning goggles and latex gloves to conduct some nanoparticle experiments.

All in all, the idea that amateurs cannot conduct useful or even just enjoyable science couldn't be more wrong. And with the likes of cardboard telescope and microscope kits available for under twenty pounds, children can easily get on the bandwagon too, perhaps with a touch of parental persuasion. Now I have to go back the workbench and a 12 volt rotary grinding tool, as I've promised my children I'll find out whether the Isle of Wight tooth could just possibly be from a small iguanadon after all...

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Thursday 1 April 2010

Blown away: some weird and wonderful animal defence mechanisms

At a time when environmentalists are calling for farmers to swap cattle for non-ruminant species such as kangaroos in an effort to stem bovine methane emission, a recent report by a leading Argentinean palaeontologist reminds me of Karl Marx's popular axiom "History repeats itself first as tragedy, second as farce".

The report's theme concerns animal defensive mechanisms, a classic example of truth being infinitely stranger than fiction. Consider for instance the bombardier beetle, an innocuous enough looking insect that when endangered can squirt a boiling liquid from its rear abdomen. Okay, that's only mildly weird. Well what about the several species of frogs and newts that when threatened extrude internal claws or spines by puncturing their own skin? Or the Asian carpenter ants whose soldiers literally self-destruct in the defence of their colony, in the process spraying a sticky poison over their attackers? Surely if anyone needed a good argument against Creationism then this panoply of the bizarre would suit admirably, since it postulates an equally bizarre, not to say warped, sense of humour on behalf of a Creator.

But the news from Argentina may well outshine (if that is the right word) all of the above, not least from the sheer scale of the animals involved. The main players are those undisputed giants of the dinosaur world, the South American titanosauria sauropods of the mid- to late-Cretaceous. Partial remains found over the past twenty years imply species such as Argentinosaurus may have reached lengths of 40 metres, thereby exceeding their better-known Jurassic relatives such as Diplodocus by around 20 per cent.

In 2002 Fernando Calvo, Professor of Natural Sciences at La Salta University in Argentina, became intrigued by sauropod growth patterns and nutrition. Although coprolites (fossilised poo) have not been found for any species of Argentinean titanosaur, the study of microscopic phytoliths, silicified plant fragments, suggest these animals enjoyed a broad plant diet. The notion that Mesozoic vegetation consisted primarily of conifers, cycads, horsetails and ferns has been overturned by recent discoveries of palms and even tall, primitive grasses. Since modern grazers such as cattle can survive solely on such unpromising material, how about titanosaurs?

Calvo and his team began a study to go where no scientists had gone before and assess the potential digestive systems of Argentinosaurus and its relatives. One of the luxuries of an enormous bulk is being able to subsist on nutritionally-poor foodstuffs, a case of sheer quantity over quality. The La Salta group hypothesised that their native sauropods were amongst the most efficient of digesters just because of their size: by the time plant material had worked its way through such a large digestive tract most of the nutrients would be absorbed, no doubt aided by gastroliths, literally stomach stones deliberately swallowed to help churn the material.

The preliminary report was published in March last year and quickly became notorious in palaeontological circles. For there was no delicate way of describing the findings: the titanosaurs would easily top the Guinness Book of Records' list of “World's Greatest Farters”. Whilst sauropods did not have the multiple stomach arrangements of modern ruminants the hypothesis was clear: titanosaur herds would have been surrounded by an omnipresent cloud of methane.

For Calvo, the next step came several months later when a tip-off from a farmer in Chubut led to an astonishing series of finds. The site, whose exact location remains secret, revealed the semi-articulated fragments from a tight-knit group of three predatory Giganotosaurus and approximately 15 per cent of the skeleton of a single, adult Argentinosaurus. Team member Jose Chiappe led the extraction work on the latter colossus and postulated that it had died slowly, perhaps due to blood loss following an attack.

What were far more intriguing were the positions of the attackers: all three had a slumped, head-down attitude, implying sudden collapse and virtually instantaneous death. Calvo found himself asking the obvious: how could they have died? Whereas a Diplodocus tail was well-formed for use as a whip, it was a much more gracile animal than its Cretaceous counterparts. The larger bulk of Argentinosaurus didn't bode well for a fast reaction: by the time a titanosaur had noticed the approach of a Giganotosaurus it would have had precious few seconds to position its tail for a whiplash response. Then Chiappe remembered an Early Cretaceous site in Liaoning Province, China, where animals had died of suffocation due to volcanic gases.

The resemblance in the post-mortem postures of the Giganotosaurus led to an incredible but as yet unpublished hypothesis: if correctly positioned, a frightened titanosaur could have defended itself by the simple expedient of raising its tail and expelling gaseous waste directly into the conveniently-placed head of an oncoming predator. An initial calculation based on scaling up from modern animals suggested an adult titanosaur could have produced about one tonne of methane per week. Computer simulations suggest a sustained five-second burst at close range would have K-O'd an eight-ton Giganotosaurus, and with a brain barely half that of Tyrannosaurus, it's unlikely the predators had the wherewithal to avoid their fate. If only the late Michael Crichton had known this, perhaps he would have written a scene involving an ignominious demise at the rear end of a sauropod for some of the characters in Jurassic Park (Jurassic Fart, anyone?) Or since this occurred in the Cretaceous, in the name of scientific accuracy perhaps that should that be Gone with the Wind?

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Monday 15 February 2010

Palaeontological pastimes: fossicking for all the family

What do the Isle of Wight, the Dorset coast and a park in south-east London have in common? Answer: they are all popular stomping grounds for amateur fossil hunters, adults and children alike. Discovering fossils in Britain has a long pedigree, as shown by the antiquity of common names for popular species such as the Jurassic oyster Gryphaea: the Devil's toenail. Equally telling are the museum specimens of ammonites with snake heads carved on them, which were sold over the centuries as 'petrified serpents'. Whilst carving heads doesn't exactly do much for fossils in scientific sense, it is at least an improvement on the Chinese folk tradition of grinding up 'dragon bones' to make medicines!

Fossicking as a popular activity has grown enormously over the past few decades, both in the UK and elsewhere. During the first half of the nineteenth century talented British amateurs such as Mary Anning and Gideon Mantell pioneered techniques to respectively excavate and examine Mesozoic fossils, but since then the field appears to have almost wholly dominated by professionals. So why is it that over the past few decades fossil hunting has become a widespread activity for both children and their parents?

It's probably best to start with two books concerning those ubiquitous prehistoric beasts, the dinosaurs. Until the 1980s most books portrayed them as lumbering, frequently swamp-dwelling animals: slow, simple-minded, and boringly monochrome. Then in 1986 American palaeontologist Robert Bakker wrote The Dinosaur Heresies: New Theories Unlocking the Mystery of the Dinosaurs and Their Extinction, which promoted a more active, bird-like metabolism. Bakker's research (in many aspects now considered more mainstream than heretical) had the good fortune to be published at the same time that research into the 65 million year old iridium layer was gaining attention. In 1990, Michael Crichton's novel Jurassic Park became a bestseller shortly before the publication of a flurry of articles and papers discussing the Chicxulub crater in Mexico. For a while this enormous impact crater was combined with the worldwide iridium layer to offer a definitive solution to the dinosaurs' demise via asteroid impact, although the hypothesis has becoming increasingly untenable since. In the meantime, Steven Spielberg's 1993 film adaptation of Crichton's book became the highest-grossing film in history, confirming that dinosaurs were back in the public imagination on an unprecedented scale.

The continual development of computer-generated graphics has since led to numerous dramas and documentaries featuring these and other extinct ecosystems, often courtesy of the Discovery Channel and the BBC. Museums have also got in on the act, with dynamic, frequently animatronics exhibits ranging from the three-quarter sized Tyrannosaurus Rex at the Natural History Museum in London to the tiny hatchling at Oxford's equivalent. There have also been some international theatrical exhibitions featuring full-size reconstructions, including the £10 million Walking with Dinosaurs show at the O2 and Wembley Arena, as well as the new temporary exhibition at Parklife Oxford Street in London. Dinomania and then some!

Although these commercial enterprises have only been made feasible by the advances in animatronics and computer graphic technology, they appear closely tied to the flood of new finds and resulting theories. Many specialists now speak of a golden age of dinosaur discovery, supported by the recognition of a new species every few months and computers used to rapidly produce life-like reconstructions. The number of exciting finds, especially from China, supports the idea of a dinosaur renaissance, although hasty speculation on the dino-bandwagon often seems to drown out sober fact. One recent key discovery is the feathers and protofeathers found on various species: current research of their microscopic melanosomes has led to a claim of multi-coloured, possibly striped dinosaurs; a far cry from the bland grey and brown illustrations I remember from the 1970s. With embryo-containing eggs and nests also being found around the world, many aspects of dinosauria are becoming as well known as species alive today. Perhaps it is the increasing familiarity of some of these animals (as in their resemblance to giant proto-birds) which helps generate a feedback loop between scientific exploration and media exposition. The day of the dull dinosaur is over.

As for the British Isles, the popularity of dinosaurs has been used to generate enormous interest in amateur fossil hunting, with the Isle of Wight, home to the earliest ancestor of T-Rex, often considered the best location in Europe for finding dinosaurs. The island contains the Dinosaur Isle and the Dinosaur Farm Museum attractions, which combined with Norfolk's Dinosaur Adventure Park show there's no shortage of family-oriented 'edutainment'.

Of course there are many other genera to be found in the UK: the three-volume set of British fossils published by the Natural History Museum runs to over 500 pages. The main groups I have found whilst fossicking around the country are echoed by the limited choice of native specimens available in fossil shops, namely belemnites, ammonites, shark's teeth, and to a lesser extent, trilobites. Whilst these are mostly small specimens (anything large tends to be discovered by commercial operators after winter storms), there are still occasional finds showing the potential for amateurs. These include the 600,000 year old elephant found at West Runton beach in Norfolk; and Baryonyx, a 9.5 metre long fish-eating dinosaur that was discovered in a Surrey clay pit.

Many locations offered organised walks, including some just for one family at a time. Herein lies another reason for the popularity: many fossil-bearing strata are found in extremely accessible locations such as the coastline of popular holiday resorts, so it's far easier to combine a beach holiday with a fossil hunt than at equivalent, frequently remote sites in Australia or the USA. There is even a Family Fossil Hunt course on the Pembrokeshire Coast in Wales, aimed at introducing families to the joys of fossicking. For those who come away empty-handed (often the adults, since children usually have better eyesight and are closer to the ground), numerous gem shops and websites sell fossils in addition to paraphernalia such as geology hammers, goggles, and magnifiers. Again, many items are clearly aimed at children, including party bags (some with chocolate ammonites) and starter sets containing items such as dinosaur coprolites (fossilised dung).

By and large, fossil hunting is a fairly harmless activity. As long as you keep an eye on the tide and don't dig into cliff faces, there's not much that can go wrong with a leisure pursuit that can cost nothing more than some ziplock bags to contain your finds. If fossils are not extracted when exposed, the weather or wave action will soon erode or fragment them. As long as any unusual specimens are reported it's doubtful scientific information is being lost (unlike with metal detectorists, where archaeological context is everything). Without sounding too much like a public information film from the 1950s, fossicking is a healthy pursuit for all the family that can help promote interest in biodiversity and evolution (although if it is anything like what can be overheard at the Natural History Museum, the pre-teens often know more about it - Greco-Latin species names included - than their parents). And after all, in many locations as soon as you get bored you can always go back to building sandcastles!

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