Einstein Scavenger Hunt: Guess That Hall!

Editor’s note: This post was created by HMNS Concierge and Discovery Guide Corey Green.

Einstein at HMNS

 

Our good friend Einstein came to visit the museum and went through many of our exhibit halls. Can you name the halls he’s pictured in? (Click the pictures for answers!)

Einstein at HMNS Einstein at HMNS Einstein at HMNS Einstein at HMNS Einstein at HMNS Einstein at HMNS Einstein at HMNS Einstein at HMNS

 Want to go on a scavenger hunt with your very own Einstein? Good news! You can get him at the Museum Store!

 

 

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 Pro-compsognathus” 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.

Family time & me time: Have the best of both at HMNS this holiday season

It’s the holiday season – full of food, festivities and family. Sure, you look forward to this month year-round, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get sick of it. Conversations start to get stale, your mother (or worse – mother-in-law) won’t let you stop stuffing your face, and you begin to worry that none of your pants will fit anymore.

This is enough to make some shout, “Bah humbug!” at every passerby, but it needn’t be so! All you need is some way to divert your family’s attention away from your new piercing, lack of promotion, the boyfriend or girlfriend that they loathe, or whatever childhood embarrassment they still insist on using to regale holiday guests (or worse yet, reenact).

What better way than an outing to the Houston Museum of Natural Science! Not only is this the perfect excuse to get out of the house, but with all of our exhibition halls, there are plenty of places to ditch your family — if only for a short while.

THE MORIAN HALL OF PALEONTOLOGY

The stunning views of fossilized dinosaurs, giant sloths, woolly mammoths and more will buy you just enough time to slip over to the John P. and Katherine McGovern Jurassic Bark Gallery (in a separate room towards the back, on the left). Here you will find sanctuary amongst the remains of a petrified forest – clearly terrified of your family too.

You might also head up to the Morian Overlook. Just as your family’s entering the hall, slip back out, and take the elevator up to the second floor. Be careful they don’t see you, because from here, you can take in the whole hall from above.

THE HALL OF ANCIENT EGYPT

There’s a lot to see in this hall. Rush to the back as you enter while the fam plods along. Here you’ll find the mummies and sarcophagi. And we have great, dim mood lighting – which means you could totally lay out on one of the benches, and people will just think you’re another exhibit! Chill here for a while until your family catches up.

THE COCKRELL BUTTERFLY CENTER

A Rainforest, butterflies, an iguana – let your clan to take it all in while you scope out your next spot.

As you enter the Rain Forest Conservatory, head all the way to the bottom level – into the cave. You can remain unseen from above and chill with all the cool butterflies that are trying to be as exclusive as you.

If you enter the Hall of Entmology from here you’ll be right by the “Land of BEEyond.” Please understand that this area is meant for children, so let them play in peace if they get there first – but after all, you’re a kid at heart, right? Why not chill here? You might even get to meet the queen bee.
THE MINERAL HALL AND SMITH GEM VAULT

This hall is lit perfectly to enhance the natural beauty of the minerals and gems on display — and also perfect lighting for a quick escape from your tribe. Walk briskly, and stick close to the wall on the left. As you round the corner, you’ll come up on the Smith Gem Vault, which, if you’re wearing dark colors, makes you nearly invisible. The only light in this room is focused on the perfectly carved diamonds and other jewels on display. It seriously looks like they’re emitting light themselves.

Hang out here for a while, and if you do it right, you can slip back into the mineral hall as the fam goes in the gem vault. You just bought yourself another 20 minutes of freedom!

Other options for some solace in the Museum:

Wortham Giant Screen Theatre: They won’t be able talk to you in here!
Burke Baker Planetarium: With the added feature of looking up, idle chit-chat is discouraged
The Museum Store: Nothing takes the edge off quite like a bit of retail therapy

The Best Trilobite: A volunteer’s utterly subjective examination

Editor’s Note: This blog comes to us courtesy of longtime volunteer John Moffitt.

I lead tours through the new HMNS Paleo Hall and spend a lot of time in the Paleozoic. Sometimes this ties in with a class on trilobites. During these tours, I answer a lot of questions like, “What is a trilobite, anyway?”

But a favorite question has always been, “What is the best trilobite in the collection?” The question may be worded differently or be slightly more specific, but an array of related questions always comes up:

•    What is the rarest trilobite?
•    What is the most scientifically significant trilobite?
•    What is your favorite trilobite?
•    Which trilobite is the most valuable?

The answers to these and similar questions are often different, and sometimes involve a process of further qualifying the question. To some degree, many of these questions involve personal opinion. For this article, I am going to put the question in terms of my own personal favorite trilobite with no further qualification required. Quite convenient!

I will pretend that I have done something so significant that the museum gives me a one-chance opportunity to walk through the entire trilobite collection, pick one out and take it home to live with me.

Once I’ve selected my favorite, I’ll tell you where to look for my favorite trilobite, a few things about where it was collected, and maybe even a few suggestions on how the museum might improve the overall display.

It will come as no surprise to anybody that knows me that I would select an odontopleurid trilobite, since I often wear one on my hat and my favorite trilobite graphics are nearly always odontopleurids. I am also known to have a special love for Oklahoma Devonian odontopleurids from the Arbuckle Mountains. For this exercise, I will pick an Ordovician odontopleurid, the enrolled Boedaspis ensifer located on your left shortly after entering the Paleozoic part of the museum exhibit.

While Boedaspis ensifer is a very rare Ordovician trilobite, a number of good specimens have been collected over the last 60 years. It wasn’t described until 1960, and even then only from trilobite fragments. Two of the very best complete specimens of Boedaspis ensifer that have ever been collected are in the museum in the current display. Both of these trilobites were donated from the Sam Stubbs collection.

The Best Trilobite: A volunteer's utterly subjective examination

In my opinion, this enrolled specimen of Boedaspis ensifer is the absolute best trilobite in the museum’s collection.
Family: Odontopleuridae BURMEISTER 1843
Genus: Genus Boedaspis WHITTINGTON & BOHLIN 1960
Species: Boedaspis ensifer WHITTINGTON & BOHLIN 1960

My reasons include — but are not limited to — the following:
•    This is a rare trilobite in any condition
•    This is one of the more interesting positions to find an odontopleurid
•    This is one of the best preparations of any trilobite that I’ve ever seen
•    This is one of the most beautiful and spectacular fully prepared trilobites that I’ve ever laid eyes on

The Best Trilobite: A volunteer's utterly subjective examination

This is a map of where most of the museum’s trilobites are displayed:

Using a map of the trilobite section of the hall, you can find my favorite trilobite on Wall C. But you would first need to pass by an outstretched specimen of the exact same species located across the walkway on Wall B, mixed in with some Devonian trilobites. The specimen of Boedaspis ensifer on Wall C was selected mostly because of the position it died and was permanently preserved in, inside mud that finally became rock, and because of the extraordinary preparation used to remove that rock.

The Best Trilobite: A volunteer's utterly subjective examination

Other views of the enrolled specimen Boedaspis ensifer help illustrate why this is — for my money — The Best Trilobite.

A slow turn from the rear position reveals the full richness of this trilobite. The outstretched specimen of that same species is shown here:

The Best Trilobite: A volunteer's utterly subjective examination

Both of these trilobites were collected from the Lower Ordovician Putilovo Quarry and the Kunda Herizont Formation, over 100 kilometers east of St Petersburg, Russia. Notice Putilovo down the M-18 freeway on the right side of this Russian map.

The Best Trilobite: A volunteer's utterly subjective examination

The entire length of this Ordovician shelf is an excellent collecting location for the entire Ordovician geological sequence. The Houston museum collection currently has 20 Ordovician trilobites on display that were collected from this region.

There are a lot of rarer, more important, and more valuable trilobites in the museum’s collection. You have to visit more than once to fully appreciate the many dimensions of this collection of extinct arthropods. Museum members get a free chance to visit the paleo hall as often as they choose, and there is always a FREE afternoon on Thursdays for those who are not museum members. Sam Stubbs has donated many of the trilobite specimens that you will see in this collection, and many of these are the best in the world for that species.

Continue your education at our hands-on Adult Education class this Tuesday, August 6 at 6 p.m. For more information or to reserve tickets online, click here.