World-famous paleontologist Dr. Robert T. Bakker shares the truth about T. rex

No one knows everything, you tell yourself, but after a conversation with Dr. Robert T. Bakker, Curator for the Morian Hall of Paleontology, you might believe there’s someone out there who does.


The world-renowned dinosaur expert is famous for his energetic and entertaining style, and imagining not only the shape and size and habits of creatures extinct for millions of years, but the entire ecosystems in which they lived. Using his imagination to peer through deep time, Bakker sees things other paleontologists wouldn’t — because he chooses to think “outside the box.” This week, he returns to the Houston Museum of Natural Science for three exciting events, sharing his wealth of knowledge on dinosaurs, natural history and geology.

Bakker arrived at HMNS Tuesday morning and hosted the premier of the NOVA science television event Making North America in the Wortham Giant Screen Theatre. The show airs on PBS this November.

Wednesday night, he hosts his own lecture titled T. rex — The Shocking Truth at 6:30 p.m., also in the Wortham. Bakker says the presentation will raise an eyebrow about the common reputation of the famous Cretaceous carnivore Tyrannosaurus rex.

bob n rex hall-TrexDMNH

“For example, if you time travel, and it’s at night, and you’re just sitting there watching critters, you hear that the best thing to do is to just sit still,” Bakker said. “That’s what we learn from Jurassic Park. That’s just the wrong answer. T. rex will find you instantly, and all your friends, and the driver of the time-traveling minibus.”

T. rex was a “triple threat,” according to Bakker, with strong vision, hearing and smell, and it was a fast runner. As the apex predator of its time, it was an extremely successful hunter. But that’s not all it was good at. Turns out it was a gentle creature, too.

rex tickler exPages_50-51

Parent T. rexes showing affection.

“The T. rex made excellent parents,” Bakker said. “They were excellent partners, both male and female. If you want to choose really doting, effective, feeling, good role-model parents… be a T. rex.

If you’d like to know how Bakker determined this, you’ll have to come to the lecture, he said.

In spite of his love for the T. rex, a species that piques the imaginations of children and adults across the world along with the animal’s arch-nemesis, Triceratops, Bakker’s favorite dinosaur is and always has been Ceratosaurus.

Trex v ttops

T. rex battling Triceratops… and losing.

“It’s smaller, built lower to the ground, had a muscular tail great for swimming, very sharp, knifelike teeth and a horn on its nose,” Bakker said. “In fourth grade, I saw it in a book called The Fossil Book. And I took a shining to Ceratosaurus. The next year, my parents took us on a trip to Washington, D.C.”

In Washington, Bakker saw the fossil for the first time and was amazed.

“That will change your theology when you’re in the fourth grade in New Jersey,” he said.

The dinosaur is rare and the flexibility of its body and shortness of its legs suggest it probably was best suited to leafing through dense forest and marshland to hunt. The rare dinosaur was found with fish and turtles nearby, likely its primary diet, which would explain the tail suited for swimming, Bakker said.

trex headbump

T. rex squaring off with a competitor, using a head-bump as a fighting technique.

While his experience meeting Ceratosaurus affected him deeply, Bakker wasn’t interested in dinosaurs until he read a 1953 Life Magazine feature on paleontology written by Lincoln Barnett that spanned the entire issue, he said.

“It was arguably the most beautifully-written feature article ever written,” Bakker said. “It was this gorgeous safari through time, starting with the tiny microbes of the Cambrian, Brontosaurus, Stegosaurus, the Texas Permian red beds, mammoths. … It wasn’t weird prehistoric monsters. The reader asks how and why did these things evolve? … Things were related. The history of life made sense. And I announced to my startled parents that having read Life Magazine, I’m going to grow up and dig fossils.”

His parents continued to believe his affinity for paleontology was just a passing phase, Bakker said, up until the publication of his first book.

“By gum, they read it, and they finally got it,” Bakker said. “Dinosaurs are a part of the history of life on Earth, not a random monster parade.”

Meet Bakker in person at his lecture Wednesday, Nov. 4. and also this Saturday, Nov. 7 at the HMNS Dino Days event Breakfast with Dr. Bakker. Beginning at 9 a.m. on the Morian Overlook and moving downstairs into the Moran Lecture Hall, children and adults can have a meal with Bakker, share ideas about paleontology, listen to a presentation and have a blast doing a variety of dino activities.

Back to Seymour, Back in Time: Part Two — Bringing back a city

The visit to our active digs at the Craddock Ranch red beds exhausted Kelly and I, but it was fascinating to learn how the Houston Museum of Natural Science discovers, jackets and moves its Permian fossils to our lab. The second day, we lent a hand at the Whiteside Museum of Natural History in Seymour for their one-year anniversary celebration. I conducted interviews with Museum Director Chris Flis, our associate paleo curator David Temple, and a handful of Seymour residents, while Kelly shot photos, posted Tweets and produced Periscope videos.


The Whiteside Museum of Natural History in Seymour, Texas has the potential to breathe new life in to the city through historic ecotourism. Jason Schaefer.

The Whiteside has the potential to bolster Seymour’s dwindling economy through historic ecotourism. Locals want to keep Baylor County fossils at home, housed in a single facility, in hopes that visitors will spend a weekend and their money in the shops, restaurants and hotels of the dusty Texas town. Dimetrodon has the potential to attract paleo-fans and academics alike from far and wide and give Seymour a new brand as the home of the richest Permian fossil accumulations in the world. It has been known as such unofficially for nearly 100 years.

Flis, Temple, and paleo curator Dr. Robert Bakker, who arrived in Seymour the previous night, regard the Craddock bone bed as crucial in the understanding of some of the most important enigmas of modern paleontology. In the past century, the information unearthed from the caked deposits of these ancient rivers has answered many questions about Permian ecosystems. However, with each layer removed, new riddles emerge. How many species of Dimetrodon were there? Why did they live so far away from the swamp, where the herbivorous Edaphosaurus lived? Shouldn’t Dimetrodon have preyed on Edaphosaurus? Should Dimetrodon be considered a mammal ancestor? And, perhaps the most fascinating, why are there more carnivores than herbivores buried here? Paleontologists are certain the story is in the bones, and for this era, there’s no better place to find them.


At the Whiteside Museum of Natural History, Dr. Robert Bakker puzzles over the broken shin bone of a Diadectes, a rare Permian herbivore. Kelly Russo.

The exposed Permian landscape from north Texas into southern Oklahoma dates back about 290 million years. To the southeast of Seymour, the rocks get a little older, providing samples from the Pennsylvanian era, about 310 million years ago. The landscape grows younger as you travel west out of Baylor County, then ages again in eastern New Mexico about 100 miles away. Here, paleontologists have found other Permian-era sites that extend as far as Arizona, Flis explained.

“Those sites are well-known for trackways, but they’re not well-known for bones,” Flis said. “For bones, Texas is the best.”


Jacketed lumps of earth lining the wall of the Whiteside Museum of Natural History contain not only fossil specimens, but valuable information about Permian ecosystems. Jason Schaefer.

The soil is rich with exposed Permian fossils. Visitors can walk across the landscape and happen upon excellent specimens of vertebrae, joints, and bits of Dimetrodon’s famous fin spines right at their feet. The bones are preserved so well in the clay soil, they still carry their indigo luminescence when turned in the sunlight. These aren’t mineralized bones, but the real thing. They are the actual mummified parts of animals that human hands have never moved, that haven’t been exposed to light or air since their deaths.


The Craddock red beds are rich with outstanding bone fossils, nearly half of them crushed, broken or bearing tooth marks from Permian-era violence. This fragment of Dimetrodon rib could tell paleontologists more about how the reptile lived than a complete skeleton. Kelly Russo.

It’s not just the bones or their ubiquity in the red beds that makes the Craddock so valuable. It’s the story the bones tell in pieces. A perfect skeleton is great for anatomy, but for information about ancient ecosystems, the pulverized fragments are pay dirt. Paleontologists learn much more about the interaction between extinct species from bones damaged by chewing or some other trauma than from bones unscathed. There’s no story in a complete skeleton.

“You don’t know how it died. You don’t know who chewed it,” Bakker said. “It tells you nothing.”

When Bakker and HMNS teams first began digging at the Craddock about 11 years ago, he was looking for shed Dimetrodon teeth, he said, knowing that losing teeth was common for the reptile. He didn’t expect as many as he found.

“There were shed teeth everywhere,” Bakker said. “It was like a Civil War battlefield that souvenir hunters hadn’t gone over.”


The Whiteside Museum of Natural History is outfitted to prepare its own fossils with its own lab. Volunteer Dr. Mitch Fruitstone removes sedimentary rock from a fossilized jaw specimen. Jason Schaefer.

The team estimated less than five percent of the specimens would be chewed and have tooth marks. After all, T. rex swallowed his prey in chunks, tearing flesh from their bodies without much mastication. From what he’d learned from his predecessors, Bakker expected the same of Dimetrodon. However, the bones were marked in high frequency, about 45 percent, and some were chewed to pieces.

“This means Dimetrodon wasn’t chewing like a dinosaur. It was chewing like a wolf or a hyena,” Bakker said. “That’s the most surprising thing. That’s a way primitive guy, but it’s chewing like an advanced mammal predator. … Our group is the first to document that.”

Through observations made at the Craddock, these discoveries broke open new possibilities for the life of Dimetrodon and the Permian world in which it lived. It could be an ancient relative of mammals instead of reptiles. As a cross-section of the development of life on Earth, the Permian represents the dawn of land-dwellers, when amphibians first began to crawl out of the water. The link between amphibians and reptiles was discovered in the Craddock in 1904, putting Seymour on the paleontological map. Named Seymouria baylorensis to pay homage to its home town, it contended with gravity better than its amphibious predecessors 20 million years earlier, and had other adaptations that allowed the species to succeed in the dry Permian landscape.


Volunteer Dr. Mitch Fruitstone demonstrates precision fossil preparation as a child looks on during the Whiteside Museum of Natural History’s first anniversary celebration. Jason Schaefer.

Now, a model of the animal occupies a hallowed space in the Whiteside, a shining example of the value of this area to the study of the Permian. As Baylor County digs continue, paleontologists layer details about the past with each layer of soil removed: microfossils, traces of flesh-eating arthropods and fossilized pollen grains, and what appears to be different species of Dimetrodon or perhaps just male and female aspects. Bite marks and stab wounds from Xenocanth suggest the ancient shark preyed on Dimetrodon from the water while it hunted the shark from land. With each shovel of soil and swing of the pickaxe, more comes to light about Eryops, Diplocaulus, Trimerorachus and Edaphosaurus.

For the agricultural residents of Seymour, the science could spell success for a struggling community. A contract with the landowners ensures the fossils excavated from the Craddock will remain in Texas, and most of them at the Whiteside. According to Bakker, having a municipal museum is “a huge game-changer” for Seymour, for HMNS and for the state.



Dr. Robert Bakker uses his sketching skills to teach children about Dimetrodon. “Science should make you giggle,” he told the kids. Jason Schaefer.

“Our hope would be that the Whiteside would be a locus not for just digging local fossils but for teaching short courses, especially for teachers so they have hands-on experience digging fossils,” Bakker said. “We’ll take them out and they’ll go back to their classroom and show how fossils are dug.”

The building itself is not without its own history. A renovated Chevrolet dealership, it was handed down from former owner Gene Porter Robinson, who had sold cars out of the building since the 1950s. As Chevy went corporate, Robinson kept the business open, remaining active until 2001 as one of the last remaining independently-owned dealerships in the franchise.


Judge Clyde Whiteside of Baylor County, and the namesake of the Whiteside Museum of Natural History, sits beside models of Edaphosaurus and Dimetrodon during the museum’s first anniversary celebration. Jason Schaefer.

When Robinson died, Judge Clyde Whiteside recognized the value of the lot, and cherishing his friendship with Robinson, decided to purchase the half-block with the clear intent of turning it into a museum to re-invigorate the community.

“I bought my first car right here,” Whiteside said, seated in his wheelchair beside the first Dimetrodon model display. “Hopefully this will bring people back. … Now that we’ve got this interest in [the Craddock], we’ve got five active digs going, and we’re finding stuff you wouldn’t believe! I’m not a scientist, I’m a lawyer and a farmer. But it’s working, and I’m thrilled to death by it. It makes my life worth living.”

Author’s note: This is the second part in a series detailing the HMNS excursion to the Craddock Bone Bed.

The Greatest Dinosaur-ologist Ever! The Reverend Edward Hitchcock.

Congregationalist Minister, Director of the Massachusetts Geological Survey, and First to Prove that Dinosaurs Had Feathers.

Part Two: U-boats and the Knuckle Decipherment.
(Read Part One Here)


Ferocious Flat-foots frighten second grader. A cartoon from Punch 1855 shows three dinosaurs restored at the Crystal Palace as big-shouldered and flat-footed. Supposedly kids were dragged kicking and screaming through the rows of monstrous sculptures.


Last year we left our dear friend, the Reverend Hitchcock, footprint sleuth of the 1830’3-50‘s, close to solving the riddle of the track-makers who stomped all over his Jurassic landscape. It wasn’t just a local New England puzzle. Similar tracks were excavated in Europe, Asia, Africa, Brazil — everywhere sediments were dated to the Jurassic, Late Triassic and Cretaceous. Hitch knew these beasts were bipeds, striding swiftly across muddy flats and sand bars, holding their heels high off the ground. Could they have been dinosaurians?

Absolutely, positively NOT! All the wise men of paleontology said Hitch’s tracks were totally, completely, astoundingly different from the imprints that would be made by a real-life dinosaur. All the textbooks and monographs said that dinos were flat-footed quadrupeds, and that’s the way they were restored as life-sized sculptures in the Crystal Palace Exhibition in a park just outside of London in the 1850’s. The 3-D dinos proudly displayed all the latest discoveries from the very best minds in Europe. This exhibition was the first “Jurassic Park” style extravaganza anywhere. Record crowds came and gawked at the Jurassic and Cretaceous behemoths. Three separate dino species were shown in giant models, plus assorted extinct crocs, ‘dactyls and sea-reptiles. All three dinos were shown as pentadactylus flat-footed monsters. All had forefeet as big as their hind feet and monstrously muscled shoulders. All the officially sanctioned dino-models on sale at the gift shoppe were five-fingered and five-toed too.

You could buy posters of the dinosaurian flat-foots and tiny miniatures cast in lead to act as paperweights or kids’ toys. Textbooks and encyclopedias were swayed by the exhibit and carried the same anatomical message. The Dinosauria as a group had legs like bears, with forepaws designed to excavate holes and bring down prey with one swipe of the claws. Tracks made by such beasts would, of course, display five digits fore and aft. The footprints had to leave big flat-footed sole marks too. Therefore, Hitchcock’s track-makers couldn’t be dinos, everyone knew that. Hitch’s favorite Jurassic critters had three main toes in the hind paw, arranged so the middle toe was the longest. Hind feet were gigantic, dwarfing the front paws in the few species who came down on all fours. Nothing could be more different from what science had discovered about dino paws.


Don’t be misled by the cryptic title. Here’s the best book on the Enigma Machine during World War II. Read this book to get the true story of Alan Turing and the cracking of the Nazi U-Boat code, as portrayed in the hit movie “The Imitation Game”

Triumph of the Congregationalist Mind: The digital decipherment. 
There was a puzzling disconnect between what the bone-scientists said and what Hitch and his fellow track-analysts were thinking. The bone guys saw dinosaurs as the commonest big land animals of the Jurassic, and the dinos were four-legged flat-foots, so they thought. Oddly, no one could find fossil footprints that matched the dino reconstructions. There were no giant flat-footed tracks in the rocks that contained giant dino skeletons. Odd, very odd.

Hitchcock ignored dinosaurs as they were reconstructed in Europe. He focused on bringing back to life the bipeds who had left behind the spectacular tracks in New England. To realize his life’s goal he needed to “see” the foot skeletons of his track-makers. But he had no fossilized pedal petrifications. No ankle bones; no toe bones, no fingers. He needed a miracle. He needed time-traveling x-ray vision that would reveal exactly where each and every bone fit in each and every toe. Congregationalists didn’t believe in miracles, not in the normal course of scientific work. What Hitchcock believed in was the power of the analytic mind and the beautiful regularity in the design of Nature. Here all his sole-searching paid off big. He already possessed the best set of diagrams of feet from living species, thanks to all the time spent chasing critters across muddy fields. Now he needed to sit down and search for the key that would unlock the skeletal.

Hitch succeeded. He cracked the code of the tracks. This decipherment must stand as one of the most heroic triumphs in the history of de-encryption, right next to the cracking of the U-boat signals sent by World War Two’s Enigma Machine. That Enigma Code story is told in the movie “The Imitation Game” with Benedict Cumberbatch playing the math genius Alan Turing. During the early days of the war, England was being starved by the U-boat offensive.Cargo was being sunk so fast that food, ammo, and guns were running short. The key to the U-boat success was the system of commands coming from German naval headquarters, sent in a new code that was diabolically complex. Each message was encrypted by the “Enigma Machine” that scrambled and double scrambled and triple scrambled every word.

Turing and his crew were told “The Enigma Machine is impregnable — no one can figure it out.” The crew took that as a challenge. They triumphed! (Note: it was more of a team effort than shown in the movie). Soon the Brits were reading the Nazi messages before the sub commanders did. U-boats were intercepted. Depth charges were dropped with precision. Salvos of hedgehog rockets were fired (Google “hedgehog”). The undersea threat was neutralized.

uboatMs. Emily Dickinson and a World War II U-boat.  The U-boat is at the left. To learn more: “Dickinson, Selected Poems and Commentary” by Helen Vendler, 2010, Harvard University Press.

I imagine Cumberbatch or maybe Anthony Hopkins playing Hitch in the movie “Dino-Code Breaker”. I see Hitch hunched over his drawing board surrounded by pickled feet of local newts, frogs, toads and a bandicoot paw sent from Captain Cook’s explorations. Angelina Jolie, plays poet Emily Dickinson, a frequent visitor to the Hitchcockian lab. She brings him a cup of tea and a translation of a French monograph on mole feet. The candles burn down to their pewter holders. Light flickers.

“I’ve GOT IT!” Hitch leaps up, waking up Ms. Dickinson who was snoring in a rocking chair. “See…’s all in the knuckles! All in the pads under the joints.” Emily stares at the diagrams for a few seconds….

“Yes, I see it too. The Law of Knuckles!!!! There’s a single pad under each joint where two toe bones meet.”


Knuckle pads on the tracks of a squatting Anomoepus.

Hitch’s breakthrough came via one very special track-maker whom he had named Ano-moe-pus, meaning “Uneven Paws”. This is the species that occasionally squatted down and put its forepaws on the mud. There were three big hind toes pointing forward, the longest in the center, and a little one pointing inward. It’s knuckle-pads were exceptionally well defined so Hitch could see exactly where bones came together at each joint.

The little toe had just one pad — that meant it had just two separate toe bones meeting at the pad. There was a sharp claw protruding from the pad. We paleo-podiatrists use a formula, a digital short-hand, to express the toe-bone design. We number toes from the inside to the outside, so the human innermost toe (we call it our “big toe”) would be Toe I. The pinkie toe is Toe V. The middle toe, of course, is Toe III. Using the formula, we can say that Anomoepus Digit I had 2 toe bones, or to be technical, two phalanges (phalanx is techno-speak for toe bone; plural phalanges).

The next toe in Anomoepus, Digit II, had two pads = three phalanges. Digit III, the longest, had three pads = four phalanges. Digit IV had four pads = five phalanges.

I imagine beads of perspiration trickling down the Reverend’s forehead as he wrote down the toe formula for Anomoepus. He sensed that he’s close to the answer for all his mystery tracks. When done with Anomoepus, he had a digital formula of 2-3-4-5. What about the pinkie toe, Digit V? No pads, no claw. No toe bones. Score the pinkie toe as a big 0. Hitch’s mystery beasts had no pinkie toe!! 

Final formula: 2,3,4,5,0. That was a huge advance in eliminating suspects. Mammals were out. Basic mammal formula is 2,3,3,3,3. Never did mammals have more than 3 phalanges on any toe, so therefore Hitchcock could ignore any suspect that was furry. (Don’t take my word for it. Take off your socks and count your toes. Now do the same for a relaxed kitty or ‘possum).


Jurassic Enigma Machine. Each pad is where two bones met….so filling in the foot skeleton was easy. Anomoepus has a formula of 2-3-4-5-0

No way the track-makers could be five ton bandicoots and kangaroos. Frogs? Nope. They never had more than four phalanges in the hind toes.

Lizards? They did have more than 3 phalanges in their middle digits, but they usually had a pinkie toe and so carried the formula 2,3,4,5,3. Hitch’s memory ran through all the paws he’s examined. Who had 2,3,4,5,0 Interesting. Alligators! Crocodiles! Closer than lizards but these formidable reptiles had wide, flat feet. And their inner toe was too big and pointed forward. And and…..crocs and gators didn’t go about on their tippy-toes and didn’t run on hind legs alone.

Hitch was very, very careful, testing and re-testing any theory of the crime scenes in the Jurassic rocks. He didn’t make a rush to digital judgement. I see him pushing back back on his desk chair, smiling. He looks over to Emily Dickinson and nods. She nods back.

“….birds…” They say in unison, in still soft voices. “The mystery monsters are birds.”

BRILLIANT!!!!! Totally awesome — that was the very first time the foot of an extinct beast was correctly envisioned, without a single bone. Problem? The biggest track-makers were over ten times bulkier than the heaviest ostrich, judging from the track size. Hard to believe? Well, no; there was precedent. Richard Owen, most famous paleontologist of the time, had announced fossil birds from New Zealand – the “Moas” — that were so huge they must have reached a ton or so. And the complete hind feet looked exactly like thick, heavy duty versions of Hitch’s Anomoepus. Moas had survived almost to the present day before the Maori hunters wiped them out. It could be that the moas were remnants of a world-wide Jurassic ground-bird dynasty.


Big bird, recently extinct. Hitchcock’s diagram of a moa foot and a moa exhibit at Moscow’s paleontological museum.

In 1858 Hitchcock’s careful, exquisite scrutiny of all things digital and phalangeal won praise from colleagues all over the scholarly globe. “He’s done it! He’s proven that a great Subclass of Flightless birds ruled the Jurassic.” There were only two lingering problems for Hitch’s theory:

Where were the wings? In the specimens with front paw prints, there were five short fingers. Bird wings have three long fingers (check the bucket of buffalo wings next football game). Hitch had to conclude that his Jurassic avians were flightless and used their stubby-fingered hands for digging, not flying.

The second problem was the tail. There were imprints in some Anomoepus specimens that might be from a long, thick tail. Birds today never have much of a tail and never with long bones and massive muscle. But maybe the Jurassic birds did have a mighty caudal appendage?

Both problems got solved by a skeleton dug in 1862, from a Jurassic quarry in Germany. A delicate raven-sized skeleton was a near perfect match for Hitchcock’s prediction of a Mystery Track-maker: the hind legs were long, especially in the ankle; the hind foot had a 2-3-4-5-0 layout; and the front paw had claws on the fingers. The rear end was wonderful; there was a long, strong, bony tail. Skeleton-wise, the little fellow was a fine example of a small Anomoepus.

Judging just from the leg bones, Hitch would’ve called the German specimen a bird. Ah…and here’s the delicious part. The skeleton came with skin, preserved as clear imprints on the limestone. The skin had feathers. Big flight feathers on the arms, wide feathers all along the tail. Yes indeed, this Anomoepus-like animal was clothed in feathers. The critter received the name Archaeopteryx.

Even more emphatic validation of Hitchcock came in 1866-68 when T. H. Huxley visited his chum John Phillips at Oxford University to talk over megalosaurs. As they pondered megalosaur legs, the two men exposed a case of osteological malpractice. Remember that Megalosaurus was a Jurassic meat-eating dino of large size. The bones were jumbled up by scavengers before burial, causing confusion — it wasn’t totally clear what belonged to the front end and what belonged to the rear. The English paleontologists in the 1820‘s and ‘30’s decided that the big, flat bone was a shoulder blade and the long skinny bone was a collar bone. That’s why the reconstruction showed immense forequarters and arms as fat as a bear’s.

Though most anatomists agreed, the restoration had serious front-end alignment issues. Professor John Phillips and T. H. Huxley showed that the giant shoulder bone of the Jurassic Megalosaurus was, in fact, a giant upper hip. And that hip that was very bird-like. The real megalosaur shoulder blade was narrow and bird-like. The real megalosaur hind feet weren’t five-toed and flat. They were arranged according to the pattern worked out by Hitchcock for Anomoepus. Properly restored, the megalosaur was a giant version of Anomoepus, just as Archaeopteryx was a mini-version. Megalosaurs had the exact body build necessary to make the biggish tracks studied by the Reverend.


Putting the hips where they belonged — painting by Luis Rey.


A hypsilophodont dino — feet matched Hitch’s Anomoepus.

More complete skeletons were dug for other dino families. The hypsilophodonts, smallish plant–eating dinos, had front and back feet that matched Hitch’s beloved Anomoepus tracks perfectly. At last it was clear that Hitchcock had been studying dinosaurs all along, starting in the mid 1830’s. He was dead right about the mystery monsters being built like birds and moving swiftly in flocks over the ground. All the European savants had been dead wrong when they stuck flat-footed paws and muscle-bound bear shoulders on their dinos.

Sadly Hitch had gone to his reward before the textbooks were rewritten. He received surprisingly weak posthumous praise. When I took paleo courses at Yale in the 1960‘s, Hitch got hardly a mention. Most dino-books even accused him of making a mistake when he called his track-makers “birds” instead of “dinosaurs”. No he didn’t make a mistake! He was right!! The track-makers were part of the avian family tree. All dinos were.

And therefore we dinosauro-philes of the 21st century must make amends. We doff our hats and give the credit where it’s due.

Mebbe…….we should write letters to Universal Studios and ask that they give a percentage of the billions made by the “Jurassic Park” franchise to the Massachusetts Geological Survey and to the Congregationalist Church of America.


* No one called him “Hitch” in public when he was alive. Still, he was so humble and accessible to students that I think, were he with us now, the nickname would have been ok.

p.s. Emily Dickinson’s (ahem) U-Boat poem

There’s no Book like an Unter-Boot
To drop us deep at Sea
Nor any Poetry as Perilous
As the Torpedoes’ stealthy speed —
This Traverse may the greatest take
And oppress them with the Toll
How deadly is the Chariot
That hunts the Human Soul.

A Tale of Two Compys: What Jurassic Park got right — and wrong — about dino anatomy

Bakker - Dino Geek JP 1

A piece of unapproved Ivy League art. Title: Podokesaurus holyokensis, Triassic/Jurassic Dinosaur, on the head of Michelangelo’s David. Material: Collage of Xerox images, clipped by scissors, Scotch taped together.  Date: March, 1964.  Artist: Robert Thomas Bakker, Yale freshman.

OMG I was such a dino-geek in college.

I had other interests — I was enraptured by sculpture and took the fabled freshman History of Art course. The collage shown here was taped together during the lectures on the Renaissance renewal of anatomically correct human form made famous by Greek sculptors. Last month, I found the collage in an old notebook, in the garage, under my copy of American Battleships, a Design History. (That’s for a future blog on the U.S.S. Texas.)

The tiny dinosaur is Podokesaurusat the time, one of two famous bantam-weight predators of the Late Triassic and earliest Jurassic, the first chapters in dinosaur history. I knew the critter well because it was dug from the red beds of the Great Triassic/Jurassic Valley. Those fossil-rich sandstones and shales filled a rift valley that extended from Nova Scotia to the Carolinas. The rift was as big as the East African Rift we see today.

Smack dab in the middle of the Triassic/Jurassic Valley was New Jersey, where I grew up. Not far north from my house were the Palisades and Granton Quarry, where Triassic flying reptiles had been discovered, plus long-snouted phytosaurs like our HMNS Smilosuchus, plus dino footprints.

The reason I applied to Yale was mostly because it had a museum chock full of red beds specimens. When I visited in 1963, Yale had a cast of the podokesaur skeleton on display — sadly, the original was destroyed by fire 50 years previously. Next to the cast was a lively life-sized sculpture, done by the Yale curator Richard Swann Lull.

“Nifty!” I thought. “Art and paleontology combined! This is the place for me.” The Yale museum was super hospitable to freshmen. I got a job cleaning a Triassic red beds skull — not a dino, but a bizarre plant-eating reptile, woodchuck-sized, with spikes coming out of the head like a tricked-out horned toad. These fellows must have lived in colonies. A bunch were dug from a small area in New Jersey. Podokesaurs surely chased these prickly morsels.

Late Triassic, New Jersey. A colony of vegetarian Hypsognathus emerges from their burrow. Maybe they had been hiding from podokesaurs, Maybe they had been watching Jersey favorite “The Sopranos” on HBO. Texas was host to a similar reptile. Extra points if you can find it in our Triassic mural.

Late Triassic, New Jersey. A colony of vegetarian Hypsognathus emerges from its burrow. Maybe they had been hiding from podokesaurs. Maybe they had been watching Jersey favorite The Sopranos on HBO. Texas was host to a similar reptile. Extra points if you can find it in our Triassic mural.

Freshman year also introduced me to the tradition of the “mixer” — parties where Yalies and young women from nearby colleges co-mingled. At a Mt. Holyoke mixer, I got an earful from female geology students who were steamed, justifiably, about gender bias. Old fogey Yale profs grumbled that “girls can’t lift heavy rocks […] can’t do serious fossil work.” Podokesaurus was a counterargument. It was discovered in 1910 by none other than Dr. Mignon Talbot, who was chair of the geology department. Talbot did her Yale Ph.D. on sea-lilies, crinoids, relatives of starfish that were abundant in Devonian rocks of New York State (we have some fab Jurassic crinoids in our hall). Dr. Talbot went on to become president of the college.

The Wikipedia portrait of Dr. Talbot. The label must’ve been written by a Yale Professor.

The Wikipedia portrait of Dr. Talbot. The label must’ve been written by a Yale professor.

Even though, as college president, she out-ranked most of the Yale faculty of her time, they insisted on calling her “Miss Talbot instead ofDr. Talbot. Yeesh. In 1965, the Yale director of graduate studies told me “Bob, we shouldn’t give Ph.D.s to girls … they’ll just get married and have babies.” Double yeesh!

But he didn’t know how famous her dinosaur would yet become! Dr. Talbot’s dinosaur influenced Jurassic Park — yes, that little novel (series) turned super-franchise

In the article naming the beast, she noted that a similar-sized dino had just been excavated from the Late Triassic of Germany. It would be christened Procompsognathus” in belief that the renowned Compsognathus of the Late Jurassic might be a descendant (it isn’t). 

Since the one and only skeleton of the pro-compy is missing key parts, Dr. Talbot’s graceful Podokesaurus was used to fill in the blanks and give a general portrait of the fox-sized predators of the Late Triassic. Talbot’s creature gained more fame when it became the inspiration for an entire family, the Podokesauridae.

Later in the twentieth century more species were added to the podoke clan, including Coelophysis from New Mexico. The New York museums scored a mass grave of Coelophysis in the 1940s and 1950s: dozens of skeletons from adults two yards long to babies as small as Podokesaurus and Procompsognathus. 

Proud members of the Family Podokesauridae. Coeolphysis grew to seven feet long. Check out the pubis in these guys!!

Proud members of the Family Podokesauridae. Coeolphysis grew to seven feet long. Check out the pubis in these guys!

IMPORTANT WARNING! The Jurassic Park franchise uses two names for tiny Triassic dinos: “pro-compy” and “compy”. There might be confusion among the dino-laity.

The true Compsognathus is Late Jurassic, with kin in the Early Cretaceous, and it doesn’t have podoke family values. As we’ll see in a bit, Crichton clearly meant his tiny carnivores to be classic Late Triassic/Early Jurassic carnivores — and that means podokesaurs.

The podokes had a near-monopoly in the meat-eating role in the Late Triassic/Early Jurassic. They were not only small and mid-sized carnivores, equivalent to kit foxes, coyotes and wolves, but they became the movers and shakers in the apex predator role. Big species attained lengths of 22 feet and weights approaching a ton — bigger than the biggest land meat-eaters today (grizzly and polar bears). All podoke species had that graceful build of Dr. Talbot’s Podokesaurus: supple neck, long torso, and outstandingly elongated tail.

And, for those of you who are pelvis-literate, you’ll notice another design feature: The pubis bone was outstanding in the forward slant and length.

Podoke attack! A ten-foot long podokesaur predator menaces the thin-necked herbivore Anchisaurus. Early Jurassic, Massachussetts, somewhere near Amherst College. 

Podoke attack! A 10-foot long podokesaur predator menaces the thin-necked herbivore Anchisaurus. Early Jurassic, Massachussetts, somewhere near Amherst College.

For Jurassic Park fans, Procompsognathus rings a bell. In Michael Crichton’s novel, the first dino we get to know is tweensey (but deadly) — a species identified as a pro-compy. These blood-thirsty characters are fond of jumping into perambulators and biting the faces of juvenile humans. They move in gangs. Crichton was dead-on here. Tracks from the Triassic/Jurassic do document podoke-packs, small carnivores cavorting in groups.

Podoke dance floor? Slab of shale with a dozen small predators cavorting. 

Podoke dance floor? Slab of shale with a dozen small predators cavorting.

In the Jurassic Park movie, the pro-compys are unstoppable nasties who confront the gifted character actor, Wayne Knight (Newman) of Seinfeld fame. (Knight’s best known for portraying portly and disreputable men, but we should remember that he was a dashing romantic lead in Third Rock from the Sun.)

In Jurassic Park, Knight’s character learns a lesson — the hard way. At first, he insults the pro-compys and tries to scare them away. Then they flash their threat-collars, a device cribbed from the Australian Frilled-Lizard. Then they hurl loogies of what seems to be venomous schmaltz. Nice scene. Scary.

However, dino-nerds: watch out. There are no bones in the lizard collar so preservation in a skeleton would be unlikely. Plus, threat collars are unknown among the many dinos now represented by fossils with skin. 

Plus, plus, no dino could spit. Spitting requires complex lip and face muscles of the sort a trombonist must have (didja know I was first-trombonist in the school band?). Reptiles can’t spit, birds can’t spit. Fossil dino faces show that the big, complicated lips just weren’t there.

Spitting cobras cheat. They don’t really spit. They have mouth muscles that squeeze the poison gland so the venom comes squirting out through the hollow fangs. Clever, but not a genuine spit.

Crichton used his dinos carefully. He fills Jurassic Park and Lost World novels with a lovely time-safari through the Mesozoic. He begins with the pro-compy, from the earliest slice of dino-time, about 210 million years ago. The long-necked brachiosaurs and stegos filled out the later Jurassic, some 145 million years ago. You could add a true Compsognathus here if you like. For the Early Cretaceous, 110 million years ago, we are given Deinonychus antirrhopus (labeled Velociraptor but actually Deinonychus). Triceratops, T. rex and the advanced ostrich-dinos fill out the last slice of Cretaceous, the Lancian Age, 66 million years ago. You can teach an entire paleo course with this fine selection of fossils. 

Remember, in the books and movies the label “pro-compy” and “compy” is synonymous with the podokesaurs. Crichton did not intend his Triassic dino to be a Compsognathus, the Late Jurassic animal quite different in body plan from the podokesaurs. Here’s where dilophosaurs come in.

Dilophosaurus, sensu stricto, is a Southwest Early Jurassic apex meat-eater — a big brother of Coelophysis and Podokesaurus. The first specimens were announced by the Berkeley museum in the 1950s. Size: near maximum for the podoke family, nearly 2,000 pounds soaking wet. Our Chinese colleagues excavated a super diloph of the same body mass. In each and every bony bump, the dilophosaur is built to the same basic plan used for Coelophysis, et al. Big difference, besides size, is the side-by-side bone crests on the head.

The Berkeley diloph. Black-n-white foto shows first restoration of head without crests. Color snapshot shows the crests added. Michelangelo’s David in for scale. Do note that this is a biggish predatory dino. 

The Berkeley diloph. Black and white photo shows first restoration of head without crests. Color snapshot shows the crests added. Michelangelo’s David in for scale. Do note that this is a biggish predatory dino.

In the books, Crichton does not describe any head ornaments for his pro-compys. The movie, on the other hand, gives the little fellows side-by-side crests, perfect miniatures of what true dilophs have. I go to screenings of the JP franchise every chance I get (“JP” is what we insiders call Jurassic Park). When I saw the 3D version on the HMNS Giant Screen, I was treated to massive vibrations that punctuated the scary parts. 

“Dilophosaurus … DILOPHOSAURUS!” shouted the five-year-old sitting behind me. He was kicking the back of my seat with unconstrained enthusiasm. Can’t blame the kid. He had his plastic diloph in his lap, evidently a cherished pet and quite accurate in most anatomical details (neck and ankle too long, too skinny). The extreme close-ups of the pro-compy head on the screen did look diloph-y. But … the size was as wrong as wrong can be and still stay within the podoke family.

Plastic dilophosaur, by Safari Ltd. About nine bucks at the museum gift shop, with your member discount.

Plastic dilophosaur, by Safari Ltd. About $9 at the Museum Store, with your member discount.

I was tempted to turn around and issue a correction: “Hey kid, that dino is a hundred times too small …” But I restrained myself. I estimated that the leader of the movie pro-compy pack was no more than 15 pounds, Boston Terrier-sized. With head crests, size matters. Small podokes don’t have much in the way of cranial protuberances. All the big crests are on big heads attached to big bodies.

Want to be a podkesaur? You must get a nose-notch. Coelophysis here has one.

Want to be a podokesaur? You must get a nose-notch. Coelophysis here has one.

And … there was something more, something missing from the schnoz in the movie compy. “No nose notch …” I said to myself. “Those guys in the movie have no nose notch … so … they aren’t members of the Family Podokesauridae!”

Notches below the hole for the nostril are a big deal in dinos and dino-kin. Land Croc-oids of the Triassic, second cousins of dinosaurs, usually are notched. But strong notches are rare amongst the carnivorous dinosaurians. T. rex is notch-less. So is Allosaurus and all the myriad raptors, from Micro-raptor to Meso-raptor to Mega-raptor. The bona fide Compsognthus is notch-less. The podoke family is the most consistently notched. Enjoy my own diagram of the Harvard skull from Coelophysis above. Please stare at the nose. There’s a notch here. Dilophosaurus has an even more emphatic notch.

No notch = no podokesaurid. Simple as that.

What about that long, slanty pubis, another hallmark of the podoke family? Study the movie dino as long as you like. You will find no unambiguous evidence of long, slanty pubic bones. None.

My conclusion: the movie artists did a great job with the pro-compys. They cobbled together a frightening chimaera from a bunch of critters, some lizards, some small meat-eating dinos, some big ones. These little dinos are the most imaginative, most mixed-up of all the JP creations. So enjoy them! But you cannot use the movie pro-compys to teach a lesson in dilophosaurs or any dilophosaur kin. The movie “compy/pro-compy” is NOT a crested podokesaur.

* Recently, some paleontologists have insisted using the name Family Coelophysidae to replace Podokesauridae, because we have so many skeletons of Coelophysis. These folks are well-meaning but, ahem, I am a Yalie and so I am sworn to defend the honor of Mt. Holyoke College and all its faculty and graduates. And its presidents. And its dinosaurs.