Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Croc-cicles’ Category

Sorry about the title. It’s the best I could do. In case you missed it on our Anatomy to You blog, we unleashed a hefty database of CT (and some MRI) scans of our frozen crocodile cadavers last week, for free public usage. In total, it’s about 34 individuals from 5 species, in 53 databases constituting around 26,000 individual DICOM file format slices of data. This page has a table of what the data/specimens are. I am writing this post to share some more images and ensure that word gets out. We’re thrilled to be able to finally release this first dataset. We have plans to let loose a LOT more such data in the future, for various organisms that we study.

Stomach-Churning Rating: 2/10- be glad that these data don’t come with an olfactory component, especially the five rotten, maggot-ridden Morelet’s croc specimens, which are among the stinkiest things I’ve dealt with.

Crocodiles are no strangers to this blog, of course, as these past links testify. Indeed, most of the crocodile images I’ve blogged with come from specimens that are in this scan dataset. We even released a “celebrity crocodile, “WCROC” or FNC7 in our dataset, which is the 3.7m long Nile croc from “Inside Nature’s Giants”. It broke our CT scanner back in ~2009 but we got the data, except for the torso, and we also got some MRI scans from it, so we’re chuffed.

Above: The only spectacled caiman (Caiman crocodilus); and indeed the only alligatorid; in our dataset. To watch for: stomach contents/gastroliths, and all the damn osteoderms that I did/didn’t segment in this quickly processed file. This specimen had its limbs dissected for one of our studies, so only the right limbs are visible.

There are some more specimens to come- e.g. five baby Nile crocs‘ datasets (“GNC1-5”) are hiding somewhere in our drives and we just need to dig them up. You might also know that we published some scan data for crocodile vertebral columns (including fossils) in our recent paper with Julia Molnar et al. (and related biomechanical data discussed here), and we published all of our anatomical measurements for a huge set of crocodylian species in our papers by Vivian Allen et al. And then I had an enjoyable collaboration with Colleen Farmer and Emma Schachner on the lung anatomy of various crocodylian species, using these same specimens and related scan datasets.

 

Above: rotating Crocodylus moreletii (specimen FMC5 from our database) in a happy colour.

Sharing these kind of huge datasets isn’t so easy. Not only do few websites host them cheaply, and with reasonable file size limits, and limited headaches for what info you have to provide, and with some confidence that the websites/databases will still exist in 5-20 years, but also we were hesitant to release the dataset until we felt that it was nicely curated. Researchers can now visit my lab and study the skeletons (or in some cases, the still-frozen specimens) matched up with the scan data, and known body masses or other metadata. We’re not a museum with dedicated curatorial staff, so that was not trivial to reliably organize, and I still worry that somewhere in the dataset we mis-identified a specimen or something. But we’ve done our best, and I’m happy with that for now.

Above: rotating Osteolaemus tetraspis (specimen FDC2 from our database), which was obviously dissected a bit postmortem before we could scan it, but still shows some cool features like the extensive bony armour and the cute little doglike (to me, anyway) skull. I worked with these animals (live) a bit >10 years ago and came to love them. Compared to some other crocodiles we worked with, they had a pleasant demeanour. Like this guy:

Osteolaemus (resting) set up with motion capture markers for a yet-to-be-published study that we did in 2005 (ugh!). It wasn't harmed by this.

Osteolaemus (resting) set up with motion capture markers for a yet-to-be-published gait study that we did in 2005 (ugh!). It wasn’t harmed by this.

Anyway, as a person who likes to maintain quality in the science we do, I also was hesitant to “just” release the DICOM file data rather than beautiful segmented 3D skeletal (or other tissue) geometry that is ready for 3D printing or animation or other uses, or interactive online tools like Sketchfab. Other labs (e.g. Witmerlab) do these kind of things better than we do and they inspire us to raise our game in the future, but I am sure that we will be forgiven for releasing big datasets without gorgeous visuals and more practical, processed files — this time.:)  We agree with many other scientists that sharing data is part of modern, responsible science– and it can be fun, too! Oddly enough, in this case we hadn’t used the CT/MRI data much for our own studies; most of the scans were never fully digitized. We just scan everything we get and figured it was time to share these scans.

Enjoy. If you do something cool with the data that we’ve made accessible, please let us know so we can spread the joy!

And if you’re a researcher headed to ICVM next week, I hope to see you there!

Read Full Post »

Happy Darwin Day from the frozen tundra sunny but muddy, frosty lands of England! I bring you limb muscles as peace offerings on this auspicious day. Lots of limb muscles. And a new theme for future blog posts to follow up on: starting off my “Better Know A Muscle” (nod to Stephen Colbert; alternative link) series. My BKAM series intends to walk through the evolutionary history of the coolest (skeletal/striated) muscles. Chuck Darwin would not enjoy the inevitable blood in this photo-tour, but hopefully he’d like the evolution. Off we go, in search of better knowledge via an evolutionary perspective!

There is, inarguably, no cooler muscle than M. caudofemoralis longus, or CFL for short. It includes the largest limb muscles of any land animal, and it’s a strange muscle that confused anatomists for many years– was it a muscle of the body (an axial or “extrinsic” limb muscle, directly related to the segmented vertebral column) or of the limbs (an “abaxial” muscle, developing with the other limb muscles from specific regions of the paraxial mesoderm/myotome, not branching off from the axial muscles)? Developmental biologists and anatomists answered that conclusively over the past century: the CFL is a limb muscle, not some muscle that lost its way from the vertebral column and ended up stranded on the hindlimb.

The CFL is also a muscle that we know a fair amount about in terms of its fossil record and function, as you may know if you’re a dinosaur fan, and as I will quickly review later. We know enough about it that we can even dare to speculate if organisms on other planets would have it. Well, sort of…

Stomach-Churning Rating: 8/10. Lots of meaty, bloody, gooey goodness, on and on, for numerous species. This is an anatomy post for those with an appetite for raw morphology.

Let’s start from a strong (and non-gooey) vantage point, to which we shall return. The CFL in crocodiles and most other groups is (and long was) a large muscle extending from much of the front half or so of the tail to the back of the femur (thigh bone), as shown here:

Julia Molnar's fabulous illustration of Alligator's limb muscles, from our 2014 paper in Journal of Anatomy.

Julia Molnar’s fabulous illustration of Alligator‘s limb muscles, from our 2014 paper in Journal of Anatomy. Note the CFL in blue at the bottom right.

As the drawing shows, the CFL has a friend: the CFB. The CFB is a shorter, stumpier version of the CFL restricted to the tail’s base, near the hip. The “B” in its name means “brevis”, or runty. It gets much less respect than its friend the CFL. Pity the poor CFB.

But look closer at the CFL in the drawing above and you’ll see a thin blue tendon extending past the knee to the outer side of the lower leg. This is the famed(?) “tendon of Sutton“, or secondary tendon of the CFL. So the CFL has two insertions, one on the femur and one (indirectly) onto the shank. More about that later.

Together, we can talk about these two muscles (CFL and CFB) as the caudofemoralis (CF) group, and the name is nice because it describes how they run from the tail (“caudo”) to the femur (“femoralis”). Mammal anatomists were late to this party and gave mammal muscles stupidly unhelpful names like “gluteus” or “vastus” or “babalooey”. Thanks.

But enough abstract drawings, even if they rock, and enough nomenclature. Here is the whopping big CFL muscle of a real crocodile:

Huge Nile crocodile, but a relatively small CFL.

Huge Nile crocodile, but a relatively small CFL.

Bigger crocs have smaller legs and muscles.

Bigger crocs have smaller legs and thus smaller leg muscles, relatively speaking. CFL at the top, curving to the left.

The giant Nile croc's CFL muscle removed for measurements.

The giant Nile croc’s CFL muscle removed for measurements. 2.35 kg of muscle! Not shabby for a 278 kg animal.

However, maybe crocodile and other archosaur CFL muscles are not “average” for leggy vertebrates? We can’t tell unless we take an evolutionary tack to the question.

Where did the CFL come from, you may ask? Ahh, that is shrouded in the fin-limb transition‘s mysteries. Living amphibians such as salamanders have at least one CF muscle, so a clear predecessor to the CFL (and maybe CFB) was present before reptiles scampered onto the scene.

But going further back through the CF muscles’ history, into lobe-finned fish, becomes very hard because those fish (today) have so few fin muscles that, in our distant fishy ancestors, would have given rise eventually to the CF and other muscle groups. With many land animals having 30+ hindlimb muscles, and fish having 2-8 or so, there obviously was an increase in the number of muscles as limbs evolved from fins. And because a limb has to do lots of difficult three-dimensional things on land while coping with gravity, more muscles to enable that complex control surely were needed.

OK, so there were CF muscles early in tetrapod history, presumably, anchored on that big, round fleshy tail that they evolved from their thin, finned fishy one — but what happened next? Lizards give us some clues, and their CFL muscles aren’t all that different from crocodiles, so the CFL’s massive size and secondary “tendon of Sutton” seems to be a reptile thing, at least.

Courtesy of Emma Schachner, a large varanid lizard's very freshly preserved CFL and other hindlimb muscles.

Courtesy of Emma Schachner, a large varanid lizard’s very freshly preserved CFL and other hindlimb muscles.

Courtesy of Emma Schachner, zoomed in on the tendons and insertions of the CFL muscle and others.

Courtesy of Emma Schachner, zoomed in on the tendons and insertions of the CFL muscle and others. Beautiful anatomy there!

Looking up at the belly of a basilisk lizard and its dissected right leg, with the end of the CFL labelled.

Looking up at the belly of a basilisk lizard and its dissected right leg, with the end of the CFL labelled. It’s not ideally dissected here, but it is present.

An unspecified iguanid(?) lizard, probably a juvenile Iguana iguana, dissected and showing its CFL muscle at its end. The muscle would extemd about halfway down the tail, though.

An unspecified iguanid(?) lizard, probably a juvenile Iguana iguana, dissected to reveal its CFL muscle near its attachment to the femur. The muscle would extend further, about halfway down the tail, though.

Let’s return to crocodiles, for one because they are so flippin’ cool, and for another because they give a segue into archosaurs, especially dinosaurs, and thence birds:

A moderate-sized (45kg) Nile crocodile with its CFL muscle proudly displayed.

A moderate-sized (45kg) Nile crocodile with its CFL muscle proudly displayed. Note the healthy sheath of fat (cut here) around the CFL.

American alligator's CFL dominates the photo. Photo by Vivian Allen.

American alligator’s CFL dominates the photo [by Vivian Allen].

Black caiman, Melanosuchus, showing off its CFL muscle (pink "steak" in the middle of the tail near the leg).

Black caiman, Melanosuchus, showing off its CFL muscle (pink “steak” in the middle of the tail near the leg), underneath all that dark armour and fatty superficial musculature.

A closer look at the black caiman's thigh and CFL muscle.

A closer look at the black caiman’s thigh and CFL muscle.

Like I hinted above, crocodiles (and the anatomy of the CFL they share with lizards and some other tetrapods) open a window into the evolution of unusual tail-to-thigh muscles and locomotor behaviours in tetrapod vertebrates.

Thanks in large part to Steve Gatesy’s groundbreaking work in the 1990s on the CFL muscle, we understand now how it works in living reptiles like crocodiles. It mainly serves to retract the femur (extend the hip joint), drawing the leg backwards. This also helps support the weight of the animal while the foot is on the ground, and power the animal forwards. So we call the CFL a “stance phase muscle”, referring to how it mainly plays a role during ground contact and resisting gravity, rather than swinging the leg forwards (protracting the limb; i.e. as a “swing phase muscle”).

The “tendon of Sutton” probably helps to begin retracting the shank once the thigh has moved forward enough, facilitating the switch from stance to swing phase, but someone really needs to study that question more someday.

And thanks again to that same body of work by Gatesy (and some others too), we also understand how the CFL’s anatomy relates to the underlying anatomy of the skeleton. There is a large space for the CFL to originate from on the bottom of the tail vertebrae, and a honking big crest (the fourth trochanter) on the femur in most reptiles that serves as the major attachment point, from which the thin “tendon of Sutton” extends down past the knee.

Femur bones (left side) from an adult ostrich (Left) and Nile crocodile (Right).

Femur bones (left side; rear view) from an adult ostrich (left) and Nile crocodile (right). Appropriate scale bar is appropriate. The fourth trochanter for the CFL is visible in the crocodile almost midway down the femur. Little is left of it in the ostrich but there is a bumpy little muscle scar in almost the same region as the fourth trochanter, and this is where the same muscle (often called the CFC; but it is basically just a small CFL) attaches.

That relationship of the CFL’s muscular anatomy and the underlying skeleton’s anatomy helps us a lot! Now we can begin to look at extinct relatives of crocodiles; members of the archosaur group that includes dinosaurs (which today we consider to include birds, too), and things get even more interesting! The “tendon of Sutton”, hinted at by a “pendant” part of the fourth trochanter that points down toward the knee, seems to go away multiple times within dinosaurs. Bye bye! Then plenty more happens:

A large duckbill dinosaur's left leg, with a red line drawn in showing roughly where the CFL would be running, to end up at the fourth trochanter. Many Mesozoic dinosaurs have skeletal anatomy that indicates a similar CFL muscle.

A large duckbill dinosaur’s left leg, with a red line drawn in showing roughly where the CFL would be running, to end up at the fourth trochanter. Many Mesozoic dinosaurs have skeletal anatomy that indicates a similar CFL muscle.

We can even go so far as to reconstruct the 3D anatomy of the CFL in a dinosaur such as T. rex ("Sue" specimen here; from Julia Molnar's awesome illustration in our 2011 paper), with a fair degree of confidence.

We can even go so far as to reconstruct the 3D anatomy of the CFL in a dinosaur such as T. rex (“Sue” specimen here; from Julia Molnar’s awesome illustration as part of our 2011 paper), with a fair degree of confidence. >180kg steak, anyone?

As we approach birds along the dinosaur lineage, the tail gets smaller and so does the fourth trochanter and thus so must the CFL muscle, until we’re left with just a little flap of muscle, at best. In concert, the hindlimbs get more crouched, the forelimbs get larger, flight evolves and voila! An explosion of modern bird species!

Ozburt (72)

Left femur of an ostrich in side view (hip is toward the right side) showing many muscles that attach around the knee (on the left), then the thin strap of CF muscle (barely visible; 2nd from the right) clinging near the midshaft of the femur.

Another adult ostrich's CF muscle complex, removed for study.

Another adult ostrich’s CF muscle complex, removed for study. Not enough ostrich myology for you yet? Plenty more in this old post! Or this one! Or this one… hey maybe I need to write less about ostriches? The CF muscle complex looks beefy but it’s no bigger than any other of the main hindlimb muscles, unlike the CFL in a crocodile or lizard, which puts everything else to shame!

STILL not enough ostrich for you yet? Take a tour of the major hindlimb muscles in this video:

And check out the limited mobility of the hip joint/femur here. No need for much femur motion when you’re not using your hip muscles as much to drive you forwards:

But I must move on… to the remainder of avian diversity! In just a few photos… Although the CF muscles are lost in numerous bird species, they tend to hang around and just remain a long, thin, unprepossessing muscle:

Chicken's right leg in side view. CFC (equivalent of CFL) muscle outlined and labelled.

Chicken’s right leg in side view. CFC muscle (equivalent of CFL; the ancestral CFB is confusingly called the CFP in birds, as it entirely resides on the pelvis) outlined and labelled.

A jay (species?) dissected to show some of the major leg muscles, including the CF. Photo by Vivian Allen.

A jay (species? I forget) dissected to show some of the major leg muscles, including the CFL-equivalent muscle; again, smallish. [Photo by Vivian Allen]

Finally, what’s up with mammals‘ tail-to-thigh CF-y muscles? Not much. Again, as in birds: smaller tail and/or femur, smaller CF muscles. Mammals instead depend more on their hamstring and gluteal muscles to support and propel themselves forward.

But many mammals do still have something that is either called the M. caudofemoralis or is likely the same thing, albeit almost always fairly modest in size. This evolutionary reduction of the CF muscle along the mammal (synapsid) lineage hasn’t gotten nearly as much attention as that given to the dinosaur/bird lineage’s CFL. Somebody should give it a thoroughly modern phylogenetic what-for! Science the shit outta that caudofemoralis…

Yet, oddly, to give one apparent counter-example, cats (felids) have, probably secondarily, beefed up their CF muscle a bit:

Cats have a pretty large CF muscle in general, and this jaguar is no exception! But mammals still tend to have fairly wimpy tails and thus CF muscles, or they even lose them (e.g. us?).

Cats have a pretty large CF muscle in general, and this jaguar is no exception! But mammals still tend to have fairly wimpy tails and thus CF muscles, or they even lose them (e.g. us?). [photo by Andrew Cuff, I think]

In summary, here’s what happened (click to embeefen):

Better Know A Muscle: The Evolution of M. caudofemoralis (longus)

Better Know A Muscle: the evolution of M. caudofemoralis (longus).

I hope you enjoyed the first BKAM episode!
I am willing to hear requests for future ones… M. pectoralis (major/profundus) is a serious contender.

P.S. It was Freezermas this week! I forgot to mention that. But this post counts as my Freezermas post for 2016; it’s all I can manage. Old Freezermas posts are here.

Read Full Post »

Seeking adaptations for running and swimming in the vertebral columns of ancient crocs

A guest post by Dr. Julia Molnar, Howard University, USA (this comes from Julia’s PhD research at RVC with John & colleagues)

Recently, John and I with colleagues Stephanie Pierce, Bhart-Anjan Bhullar, and Alan Turner described morphological and functional changes in the vertebral column with increasing aquatic adaptation in crocodylomorphs (Royal Society Open Science, doi 10.1098/rsos.150439). Our results shed light upon key aspects of the evolutionary history of these under-appreciated archosaurs.

Stomach-Churning Rating: 5/10; a juicy croc torso in one small photo but that’s all.

Phylogenetic relationships of the three crocodylomorph groups in the study and our functional hypotheses about their vertebrae. * Image credits: Hesperosuchus by Smokeybjb, Suchodus by Dmitry Bogdanov (vectorized by T. Michael Keesey) http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0

Phylogenetic relationships of the three crocodylomorph groups in the study and our functional hypotheses about their vertebrae. * Image credits: Hesperosuchus by Smokeybjb, Suchodus by Dmitry Bogdanov (vectorized by T. Michael Keesey) http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0

As fascinating as modern crocodiles might be, in many ways they are overshadowed by their extinct, Mesozoic cousins and ancestors. The Triassic, Jurassic, and early Cretaceous periods saw the small, fast, hyper-carnivorous “sphenosuchians,” the giant, flippered marine thalattosuchians, and various oddballs like the duck-billed Anatosuchus and the aptly named Armadillosuchus. As palaeontologists/biomechanists, we looked at this wide variety of ecological specializations in those species, the Crocodylomorpha, and wanted to know, how did they do it?

Of course, we weren’t the first scientists to wonder about the locomotion of crocodylomorphs, but we did have some new tools in our toolbox; specifically, a couple of micro-CT scanners and some sophisticated imaging software. We took CT and micro-CT scans of five fossil crocodylomorphs: two presumably terrestrial early crocodylomorphs (Terrestrisuchus and Protosuchus), three aquatic thalattosuchians (Pelagosaurus, Steneosaurus, and Metriorhynchus) and a semi-aquatic modern crocodile (Crocodylus niloticus). Since we’re still stuck on vertebrae (see, e.g., here; and also here), we digitally separated out the vertebrae to make 3D models of individual joints and took measurements from each vertebra. Finally, we manipulated the virtual joint models to find out how far they could move before the bones bumped into each other or the joints came apart (osteological range of motion, or RoM).

 

Our methods: get fossil, scan fossil, make virtual fossil and play with it.

Our methods: get fossil (NHMUK), scan fossil, make virtual fossil and play with it.

Above: Video of a single virtual inter-vertebral joint from the trunk of Pelagosaurus typus (NHMUK) showing maximum osteological range of motion in the lateral direction (video). Note the very un-modern-croc-like flat surfaces of the vertebral bodies! (modern crocs have a ball-and-socket spinal joint with the socket on the front end)

While this was a lot of fun, what we really wanted to find out was whether, as crocodylomorphs became specialized for different types of locomotion, the shapes of their vertebrae changed similarly to those of mammalian lineages. For example, many terrestrial mammals have a lumbar region that is very flexible dorsoventrally to allow up-and-down movements during bounding and galloping. Did fast-running crocodylomorphs have similar dorsoventral flexibility? And did fast-swimming aquatic crocodylomorphs evolve a stiffer vertebral column like that of whales and dolphins?

Above: Video of how we modelled and took measurements from the early crocodylomorph Terrestrisuchus gracilis (NHMUK).

Our first results were puzzling. The Nile croc had greater RoM in side-to-side motions, which makes sense because crocodiles mostly use more sprawling postures and are semi-aquatic, using quite a bit of side-to-side motions in life. The part that didn’t make sense was that we found pretty much the same thing in all of the fossil crocodylomorphs, including the presumably very terrestrial Terrestrisuchus and Protosuchus. With their long limbs and hinge-like joints, these two are unlikely to have been sprawlers or swimmers!

So we started looking for other parts of the croc that might affect RoM. The obvious candidate was osteoderms, the bony scales that cover the back. We went back to John’s Freezer and got out a nice frozen crocodile to measure the stiffness of its trunk and found that, sure enough, it was a lot stiffer and less mobile without the osteoderms. If the fairly flexible arrangement of osteoderms in crocodiles had this effect on stiffness, it seemed likely that (as previous authors have suggested; Eberhard Frey and Steve Salisbury being foremost amongst them) the rigid, interlocking osteoderms running from head to tail in early crocodylomorphs would really have put the brakes on their ability to move their trunk in certain ways.

Testing stiffness of crocodile trunks to learn the effects of osteoderms, skin, muscles, and ribs. We hung metric weights from the middle of the trunk and measured how much it flexed (Ɵ), then removed bits and repeated.

Testing the stiffness of (Nile) crocodile trunks to learn the effects of osteoderms, skin, muscles, and ribs. We hung metric weights from the middle of the trunk and measured how much it flexed (Ɵ), then removed bits and repeated. Click to em-croccen.

Another cool thing we found was new evidence of convergent evolution to aquatic lifestyles in the spines of thalattosuchians. The more basal thalattosuchians, thought to have been near-shore predators, had stiffness and RoM patterns similar to Crocodylus. But Metriorhynchus, which probably was very good at chasing down fast fish in the open ocean, seems to have had greater stiffness. (The stiffness estimates come from morphometrics and are based on modern crocodiles; see here again, or just read the paper already!) A stiff vertebral column can be useful for a swimmer because it increases the body’s natural frequency of oscillation, and faster oscillation means faster swimming (think tuna, not eel). The same thing seems to have happened in other secondarily aquatic vertebrate lineages such as whales, ichthyosaurs, and mosasaurs.

So, our results were a mixed bag of adaptations particular to crocs and ones that seem like general vertebrate swimming specializations. Crocodylomorphs are important because they are the only group of large vertebrates other than mammals that has secondarily aquatic members and has living members with a reasonably similar body plan, allowing us to test hypotheses in ways that would arguably be impossible for, say, non-avian dinosaurs and birds. The take-home message: crocodylomorphs A) are awesome, and B) can teach us a lot about how vertebrates adapt to different modes of life.

Another take on this story is on our lab website here.

Read Full Post »

Even nine years later, I still keep thinking back to a day, early in my career as an academic faculty member based in England, that traumatized me. Today I’m going to share my story of that day. I feel ready to share it.

Stomach-Churning Rating: hmm that’s a tough call, but I’ll say 1/10 because it’s just photos of live crocs and such.

This day was part of a research trip that lasted a couple of weeks, and it was in Florida, not England, and little of that trip went well at first. It transpired almost exactly 9 years ago today; around 20 August 2005. I took two 2nd/3rd year undergraduate students and our lab technician with me to Florida, meeting up with Dr. Kent Vliet, an experienced crocodile specialist, to study the biomechanics of crocodile locomotion, a subject I’ve been slowwwwwwly working on since my PhD days (see recent related blog post here). We were funded by an internal grant from my university that was supposed to be seed money to get data to lay groundwork for a future large UK research grant.

Cuban crocodile adult relaxing in a nearby enclosure. Pound-for-pound, a scary croc, but these acted like puppies with their trainers.

Cuban crocodile adult relaxing in a nearby enclosure. Pound-for-pound, a scary croc, but these acted like puppies with their trainers.

I’m interested in why only some crocodylian species, of some sizes and age classes, will do certain kinds of gaits, especially mammal-like gaits such as bounding and galloping. This strongly hints at some kind of size-related biomechanical mechanism that dissuades or prevents larger crocs from getting all jiggy with it. And at large size, with few potential predators to worry about and a largely aquatic ambush predator’s ecology, why would they need to? Crocodiles should undergo major biomechanical changes in tune with their ecological shifts as they grow up. I want to know how the anatomy of crocodiles relates to these changes, and what mechanism underlies their reduction of athletic abilities like bounding. That’s the scientific motivation for working with animals that can detach limbs from your body. (The crocodiles we worked with initially on this trip were small (about 1 meter long) and not very dangerous, but they still would have done some damage if they’d chosen to bite us, and I’ve worked with a few really nasty crocs before.)

Me putting motion capture markers onto an uncooperative young Siamese crocodile.

Me putting motion capture markers onto an uncooperative young Siamese crocodile.

We worked at Gatorland (near Orlando) with some wonderfully trained crocodiles that would even sit in your lap or under your chair, and listened to vocal commands. The cuteness didn’t wear off, but our patience soon did. First, the force platform we’d borrowed (from mentor Rodger Kram’s lab; a ~$10,000 piece of useful gear) and its digital data acquisition system wouldn’t work to let us collect our data. That was very frustrating and even a very helpful local LabView software representative couldn’t solve all our problems. But at least we were able to start trying to collect data after four painstaking days of debugging while curious crocodiles and busy animal handlers waited around for us to get our act together. The stress level of our group was already mounting, and we had limited time plus plenty of real-life bugs (the bitey, itchy kind; including fire ants) and relentless heat to motivate us to get the research done.

Adorable baby Cuban crocodile.

Adorable baby Cuban crocodile.

Then the wonderfully trained crocodiles, as crocodiles will sometimes do, decided that they did not feel like doing more than a slow belly crawl over our force platform, at best. This was not a big surprise and so we patiently tried coaxing them for a couple of sweltering August days. We were working in their caged paddock, which contained a sloping grassy area, a small wooden roofed area, and then at the bottom of the slope was the crocodiles’ pond, where they sat and chilled out when they weren’t being called upon to strut their stuff for science. We didn’t get anything very useful from them, and then the weather forecast started looking ugly.

Hybrid Siamese crocodile in its pond in our enclosure, waiting to be studied.

Hybrid Siamese crocodile in its pond in our enclosure, waiting to be studied.

We’d been watching reports of a tropical storm developing off the southeastern coast of Florida, and crossing our fingers that it would miss us. But it didn’t.

When the storm hit, we were hoping to weather the edge of the storm while we packed up, because we decided we’d done our best but our time had run out and we should move to our next site, the Alligator Farm and Zoological Park in St Augustine, where I’d worked a lot before with other Crocodylia. But the storm caught us off guard, too soon, and too violently.

To give some context to the situation, for the previous several days the local croc handlers had told us stories of how lightning routinely struck this area during storms, and was particularly prone to hitting the fences on the park perimeter, which we were close to. There was a blasted old tree nearby that vultures hung out in, and they related how that blasting had been done by lightning. One trainer had been hit twice by (luckily glancing) blows from lightning hitting the fences and such.

Ominous onlooker.

Ominous onlooker.

The storm came with pounding rain and a lot of lightning, much of it clearly striking nearby- with almost no delay between flashes and thunder, and visible sky-to-ground bolts. We debated taking our forceplate out of the ground near the crocodile pond, because sensitive electrical equipment and rain don’t go well together, but this would take precious time. The forceplate was covered with a tarp to keep the rain off. I decided that, in the interest of safety, we needed to all seek shelter and let the forceplate be.

I’ll never forget the memory of leaving that crocodile enclosure and seeing a terrible sight. The crocodile pond had swiftly flooded and engulfed our forceplate. This flooding also released all the (small) crocodiles which were now happily wandering their enclosure where we’d been sitting and working before.

Another subject awaits science.

Another subject awaits science.

At that point I figured there was no going back. Lightning + deepening floodwater + electrical equipment + crocodiles = not good, so I wagered my team’s safety against our loaned equipment’s, favouring the former.

We sprinted for cars and keepers’ huts, and got split up in the rain and commotion. As the rain calmed down, I ventured out to find the rest of the team. It turned out that amidst the havoc, our intrepid lab technician had marshalled people to go fetch the forceplate out from the flooded paddock, storm notwithstanding. We quickly set to drying it out, and during some tense time over the next day we did several rounds of testing its electronics to see if it would still work. Nope, it was dead. And we still had over a week of time left to do research, but without our most useful device. (A forceplate tells you how hard animals are pushing against the ground, and with other data such as those from our motion analysis cameras, how their limbs and joints function to support them)

We went on to St Augustine and got some decent data using just our cameras, for a wide variety of crocodiles, so the trip wasn’t a total loss. I got trapped by remnants of the storm while in Washington, DC and had to sleep on chairs in Dulles Airport overnight, but I got home, totally wrecked and frazzled from the experience.

That poorly-timed storm was part of a series of powerful storms that would produce Hurricane Katrina several days later, after we’d all left Florida. So we had it relatively easy.

I’m still shaken by the experience- as a tall person who grew up in an area with a lot of dangerous storms, I was already uneasy about lightning, feeling like I had a target on my back. But running from the lightning in that storm, after all the warnings we’d had about its bad history in this area, and how shockingly close the lightning was, leaves me almost phobic about lightning strikes. I’m in awe of lightning and enjoy thunderstorms, which I’ve seen few of since I left Wisconsin in 1995, but I now hate getting caught out in them.

The ill-fated forceplate and experimental area.

The ill-fated forceplate and experimental area.

Moreover, the damage to the forceplate- which we managed to pay to repair and return to my colleague, and the failure of the Gatorland experiments, truly mortified me. I felt horrible and still feel ashamed. I don’t think I could have handled the situation much differently. It was just a shitty situation. That, and I wanted to show our undergrads a good time with research, yet what they ended up seeing was a debacle. I still have the emails I sent back to my research dean to describe what happened in the event, and they bring back the pain and stress now that I re-read them. But then… there’s a special stupid part to this story.

I tried to lighten the mood one night shortly after the storm by taking the team out to dinner, having a few drinks and then getting up to sing karaoke in front of the restaurant. I sang one of my favourite J Geil’s Band tunes– I have a nostalgic weakness for them- the song “Centerfold“. I not only didn’t sing it well (my heart was not in it and my body was shattered), and tried lamely to get the crowd involved (I think no one clapped or sang along), but also in retrospect it was a bad choice of song to be singing with two female undergrads there– I hadn’t thought about the song’s meanings when I chose to sing it, I just enjoyed it as a fun, goofy song that brought me back to innocent days of my youth in the early 1980’s. But it is not an innocent song.

So ironically, today what I feel the most embarrassed about, thinking about that whole trip and the failed experiment, is that karaoke performance. It was incredibly graceless and ill-timed and I don’t think anyone enjoyed it. I needed to unwind; the stress was crushing me; but oh… it was so damn awkward. I think I wanted to show to the team “I’m OK, I can still sing joyfully and have a good time even though we had a disastrous experiment and maybe nearly got electrified or bitten by submerged crocodiles or what-not, so you can relax too; we can move on and enjoy the rest of the trip” but in reality I proved to myself, at least, that I was not OK. And I’m still not OK about that experience. It still makes me cringe. Haunted, it took me many years to feel comfortable singing karaoke again.

It should have been a fun trip. I love working with crocodiles, but Florida is a treacherous place for field work (and many other things). I can’t say I grew stronger from this experience. There is no silver lining. It sucked, and I continually revisit it in my memory trying to find a lesson beyond “choose better times and better songs to sing karaoke with” or “stay away from floods, electricity and deadly beasts.”

So that wins, out of several good options, as the worst day(s) of my career that I can recall. I’ve had worse days in my life, but for uncomfortable science escapades this edges out some other contenders. Whenever I leave the lab to do research, I think of this experience and hope that I don’t see anything worse. It could have been much worse field work.

(Epilogue: the grants we’ve tried to fund for this crocodile gait project all got shot down, so it has lingered and we’ve done research on it gradually since, when we find time and students… And one of the students on this trip went on to do well in research and is finishing a PhD in the Structure & Motion Lab now, so we didn’t entirely scare them off science!)

Read Full Post »

I visited the British Museum a while ago with my daughter and was struck by some of the animal imagery in the loot on display– particularly, as an archosaurophile, the crocodiles (Crocodylia, crocodylians, etc.; no alligatoroids to show in this post). So I decided to go back and photograph some of them for a blog post about the more obscure and rare animals that sometimes appear in human art and design.

It’s easy to think of horses, lions, dogs, eagles and other familiar, domestic or prized beasts in human decorations. Yet what roles do less common animals play? This post is the first of two on the unsung beasties of human artwork, as represented in the British Museum.

Stomach-Churning Rating: 1/10. Tame art and a dried crocodile skin.

Wherever humans and crocodiles coexist, the primeval appearance and dangerous potential of crocodiles are sure to impress themselves upon our psyche. Hence they will manifest themselves in art. This should especially apply in the early days of a civilization, before we extirpate local crocodiles or exclude them to the hinterlands, or in cases in which crocodylians become revered and protected.

Much of Western culture lacks such an emphasis, because it developed in more temperate climes where crocodiles were long since absent. It’s fun to think about what our culture would be like if it had developed with crocodiles as a prominent aspect, as in Egypt, which is the natural place to begin our tour, featuring mummies of course!

All images can be clicked to emcroccen them.

Small Nile crocodile mummy from >30 B.C, El Hiba, Egypt

Small Nile crocodile mummy from >30 B.C, El Hiba, Egypt

Second small Nile crocodile mummy from >30 B.C, El Hiba, Egypt

Second small Nile crocodile mummy from >30 B.C, El Hiba, Egypt

Those mummies remind me of a recent scientific study that used such mummies to reveal the history of the “cryptic” species Crocodylus suchus, a close relative of the Nile croc C. niloticus, and one that seems to be more threatened.

We proceed on our tour with a box showing an example of shabti, or doll-like funeral offerings of “enchanted” mummified figurines:

This shabti box was for a noble daughter, Neskshons, in Thebes, from around 650 B.C.

This shabti box was for a noble daughter, Neskshons, in Thebes, from around 650 B.C.

A crocodile deity receives the shabti from the departed soul, accompanied by  serpent god as well as a more human, ankh-bearing divinity.

A crocodile deity receives the shabti from the departed soul, accompanied by serpent god as well as a more human, ankh-bearing divinity.

Next, some amazingly preserved papyrus scrolls:

This papyrus is from around 900 B.C., with short blurbs about the woman Tentosorkon, part of a new style of funeral provisions in the 22nd Dynasty of Egypt.

This papyrus is from around 900 B.C., with short blurbs about the woman Tentosorkon, part of a new style of funeral provisions in the 22nd Dynasty of Egypt.

Crocodile featured in the story of Tentosorkon.

Crocodile featured in the story of Tentosorkon. What’s it doing? Why is a feathered snake-thing touching its butt? I wish I knew.

The "Litany of Ra", from around 1000 B.C., which is a style like that of the previous 22nd Dynasty papyrus and would have decorated a tomb's wall, dedicated to the lady Mutemwia. Ra, the sun god, is shown in his different manifestations, including a crocodile form, called Sobek-ra: http://www.princeton.edu/~achaney/tmve/wiki100k/docs/Sobek.html

The “Litany of Ra”, from around 1000 B.C., which is a style like that of the previous 22nd Dynasty papyrus and would have decorated a tomb’s wall, dedicated to the lady Mutemwia. Ra, the sun god, is shown in his different manifestations, including a crocodile form, called Sobek-ra (AKA Sebek); a protector and comforter of the dead:

egypt croc 1But crocodiles also feature prominently in other cultures around the world– I was hoping to find some in Thai, South American, or other cultures’ art (especially east/western Africa). However, the museum didn’t exhibit any I could find. I did find these, though, starting with this fantastic Roman armour with a great backstory (and hard to take photos of; argh!):

croc armour caption croc armour 1 croc armour 2 croc armour 3

Roman soldiers in a Sobek cult, running around Egypt while wearing badass armour and getting into all kinds of Bronze Age trouble: I DEMAND TO SEE A SWORD-AND-SANDALS MOVIE FEATURING THIS!

I searched for this next one but did not see it:

A crocodile mask from Mabuiag island near Australia- for some cool details, see this page where the image comes from (I didn’t get to see the original).

There were more tenuous links to crocodiles– surely some dragon images throughout the world relate at least partly to crocodiles, such as this one which seems very crocodylian to me:

A water spirit figure called a belum, from Sarawak, Malaysia, 18/1900s. Belief among  the Melanau people  was that these dragons would wrap their tails around someone's body to protect or drown them. Possibly inspired by saltwater or Phillipine crocs that they lived near.

A water spirit figure called a belum, from Sarawak, Malaysia, 18/1900s. Belief among the Melanau people was that these dragons would wrap their tails around someone’s body to protect or drown them. Possibly inspired by saltwater or Phillipine crocs that they lived near.

And that’s it- all I managed to find, but not a bad haul from this huge museum.  I looked for the Aztec croc-god Cipactli to no avail. If you have £850 to spare you might like to walk away with this one from the museum. I gladly accept donations of such things to my, err, research.

That’s just one museum’s view of crocodylians’ role in our culture. What crocodile imagery from human art around the world do you fancy?

 

Read Full Post »

I love doing sciencey road trips with my team when I can. Last week, we got a treat: four of us got a behind-the-scenes tour of the fairly new Crocodiles of the World facility near Oxford; just over 90 minutes west of our lab, nestled in the pictureseque Cotswolds region. We were not disappointed, so you get to share in the joy! In photo-blog format. Pics can be clicked to emcrocken.

In the midst of an unpreposessing industrial estate lies: AWESOME!

In the midst of an unpreposessing industrial estate lies: AWESOME!

If you want to bone up on your croc species, go here and here. I won’t go into details. This is an eye candy post!

Reasonably accurate description that caught my eye.

Reasonably accurate description that caught my eye. My scientific interest in crocodiles starts here, and with their anatomy/relationship with dinosaurs, but I’ve loved crocs since I was an infant (one of my first words, as I may have written here before, was “dock-a-dile”, for my favourite stuffed animal at the time [R.I.P.]).

Siamese crocodiles. They were apart when we entered, then got snuggly later, as I've often seen this species do.

Siamese crocodiles. The large male is “Hugo.” They were apart when we entered, then got snuggly later, as I’ve often seen this species do. Heavily endangered (<300 in the wild?), so any breeding is a good thing!

The above photo brings me to one of my general points. Crocodiles of the World seems genuinely to be a centre that is breeding crocodiles for conservation purposes (and for education, entertainment and other zoo-like stuff). Essentially every crocodile enclosure had a mated pair, and several were breeding. Such as…

Yes, that is a Dwarf African crocodile, Osteolaemus, and it is a female on her nest-mound. Which means...

Yes, that is a Dwarf African crocodile, Osteolaemus, and indeed it is a female on her nest-mound. Which means…

Eggs of said Osteolaemus.

Eggs of said Osteolaemus.

And babies of said Osteolaemus!

And babies of said Osteolaemus! As if the adults aren’t cute enough with their short snouts and doglike size/appearance! These guys have striking yellow colouration, too. I’d never seen it in person before.

That’s not all!

Male American Alligator warming up. Smaller female partner lives in same enclosure.

Male American Alligator “Albert” warming up. Smaller female partner “Daisy” lives in same enclosure. Plenty of babies from these guys, too! Daisy comes when called by name, and Albert is learning to do so.

~1 meter long juvenile Nile crocodiles, bred at the facility.

~1 meter long juvenile Nile crocodiles, bred at the facility.

But then crocodile morphological diversity (colours, textures) and behaviour is just too cool not to focus on a bit, so here are some highlights from our visit!

Endearing shot of a crocodylian I seldom get to see anywhere: Paleosuchus trigonatus, the Cuvier's Dwarf Caiman. Spiny armoured hide and quite terrestrial; poorly known in many ways. Some more info is here- http://crocodilian.com/paleosuchus/description.html (note its tortured taxonomy)

Endearing shot of a crocodylian I seldom get to see anywhere: Paleosuchus trigonatus, the Schneider’s Dwarf Caiman. Spiny armoured hide and quite terrestrial; poorly known in many ways. Some more info is here (note its tortured taxonomy)

Black caiman, Melanosuchus niger, showing some interest in us.

Black caiman, Melanosuchus niger, showing some interest in us.

Cuban crocodiles cooling off by exposing their mouths.

Cuban crocodiles (Crocodylus rhombifer; pound for pound the most badass croc in my experience; badassitude that this photo captures nicely) cooling off by exposing the well-vascularized soft tissues of the mouth region.

But it’s not just crocs there, either, and some of the highlights were non-croc surprises and memorable encounters:

A surprisingly friendly and tame Water monitor (14 yrs old; does kids parties). Note person for scale.

A surprisingly friendly and tame Water monitor (14 yrs old; does kids parties). Note person for scale. Was about 2 meters long, 20 kg or so.

Business end of nice Water monitor, with tongue engaged.

Business end of nice Water monitor, with tongue engaged.

And we got a nice farewell from an African spur-thigh tortoise (Geochelone sulcata) with an oral fixation (action sequence thereof):

tortoise-nom (1)
tortoise-nom (2)

tortoise-nom (3)
tortoise-nom (4)

tortoise-nom (5)

Chowmp!

If someone visits this facility and leaves without being converted to a croc-lover, they must be from a different planet than me. It is a celebration of crocodiles; the owner, Shaun Foggett, is the real deal. He sold his home and quit his job as a carpenter to care for crocodiles, and it seems to be a great success– about to get greater, as they have plans to move to a new, bigger, proper site! They are seeking funding, so if you can contribute go here.

Right then… UK residents and visitors: you need to go here! Badly! Get off the blog and go now. If it is a Saturday/Sunday (the cramped industrial estate location only allows the public then).

Otherwise just stew and imagine how much fun you could be having checking out crocodiles. I cruelly posted this on a Tuesday to ensure thorough marination of any croc-geeks.

Muhaha!  ;-)

Read Full Post »

Today I’m doing something a bit unusual for this blog, but which very comfortably fits within its theme. Enough talking about my papers and media appearances and such. Too much self-indulgence, I feel. I want to talk about someone else. And then I will get back to the usual business of this blog: sharing the joy of cool anatomy, with a Mystery Dissection/Image post that is long overdue. Yet first, I wish to share the joy of knowing a cool anatomist– and artist.

One of my great shames as a scientist is that I never cultivated some decent artistic skills that I had as a young boy. And now as an anatomist I feel that my work often suffers from a lack of artistic talent (e.g. the image below, which still makes me hang my head in shame). In addition to scientific know-how, anatomy, when done best, demands the eyes and the hands of an artist. I might have the eyes but I definitely lack the hands. I envy people that have both; Julia Molnar from my team is but one example. And for me, encountering them is always a special delight. What follows is my personal perspective on one of the shining stars in the field.

Right ischium (hip bone) of an adult ostrich in side view, showing some muscle origins and stuff, with a 1cm scale bar. Cringe. My amateurish line drawing. I hate it and wish I'd done better.

Right ischium (hip bone; pelvis/synsacrum) of an adult ostrich in side view, showing some muscle origins and stuff, with a 1cm scale bar. Cringe. My boring, amateurish, pixelly line drawing from a paper on pelvic evolution. I hate it and wish I’d done better.

Mieke Roth is a scientific illustrator from the Netherlands, with a Masters degree from the prestigious and hallowed halls of Wageningen University Her homepage has the tagline “Complex processes beautifully revealed”. This is a wonderfully succinct and eloquent way to describe the magic that she is able to conjure with her skills in scientific illustration. Her “Ultimate Croc Anatomy” project will be the greatest weaving of that sorcery yet. That project is described and will be documented on this page, and has an Indiegogo crowdfunding page here. Mieke describes its goals best:

“I will meticulously dissect a Nile crocodile and document it. I will share the dissection in text, illustrations and video via my website. I will process the data I gathered and each time build a new part of the digital crocodile. From there I will adapt the model for illustrations, books, animations and apps.”

I first became a happy victim of the artistic spells that Mieke casts when I saw her blog entry “How to make an octopus,” which you absolutely must read if you have not already or else you’ll be firmly spanked and sent away from this blog with only lumps of coal in your freezer for Freezermas (what’s Freezermas? Find out soon, and in the meantime be nice– or else!). In her post, Mieke didn’t just look up a picture of an octopus somewhere and redraw it in an abstract, schematic, flat and deceptively simplified way. She went and did her own hands-on research by dissecting an octopus, and then described the steps in converting those observations into a brilliantly novel set of digital illustrations that really brought octopus anatomy to life.

Octopus image by Mieke Roth

Octopus image by Mieke Roth

Part of what first mesmerized me is that this whole investigative and creative process was lovingly documented on her blog. In doing this, Mieke played the roles of both scientist and artist, by displaying the mundane-but-wonderful labour she did to come up with her final, gorgeous results, and the passion, dedication, scholarship and originality that make her stand head and shoulders above so many gifted scientific or medical illustrators. This thrilled me at both visceral and intellectual levels. It literally gave me chills to witness how good the final product was. As I write this and look back on that blog again, months later, I still feel the magic.

So then I started browsing around her homepage and became punch-drunk from repeated blows of amazement—again and again and again the quality and novelty and thoroughness leaped off the computer screen. Images of nature that I thought I knew well, such as the growth of a chick into a chicken (really great blog here documenting this with sketches), were conveyed in a way that made me see them as if for the first time, with joy and wonder. In the space of a day, I became a huge Mieke Roth fan.

little_chicken

Young chicken sketched by Mieke Roth

And now Mieke is taking it not just a notch, but a huge step, to spend a year documenting the anatomy of the Nile crocodile—how cool is that!?! As an expert in the postcranial anatomy of the Crocodylia, I can confidently state that the available scientific literature on the subject is patchy in coverage and often poor in quality by modern standards. There are big flashes of excellence here and there, such as Larry Witmer’s and Chris Brochu’s teams’ very thorough work on head and neck anatomy, or Colleen Farmer’s and Emma Schachner’s studies of lung morphology. But then I glance at some scholarly books (to avoid offending, I will not cite them here) that are supposed to be key references on the complete anatomy of Crocodylia and I frankly am left cold. While there is some superb work from the 1800s (Gadow, Fürbringer and others come immediately to mind), it is in the flat, often colourless style which the printing technology of that age imposed upon those great masters of anatomy. And while there is superb work by Romer, a tome on the Chinese alligator and a few others, again they tend to be limited to line drawings or spotty coverage of various anatomical systems. We need a visionary with both the scientific and artistic skill to make a subject that could seem dry or arcane become miraculous and accessible. I think you can guess whom I have in mind.

I can think of no one better suited to the ambitious goals and demands of the Ultimate Croc Anatomy project than Mieke Roth. She combines the attention to anatomical detail of a classical 19th century anatomist with the technical wizardry of a modern digital artist. She will have a supportive team of experts to ensure the content is exceptional and up-to-date. I’ll be one of them (and the crocs will come from my freezer), because of my enthusiasm for  the project, and I’ve been helping to recruit others. So I urge you not just to join in her crowdfunding effort to carry out a very worthy and exciting project that the world can share, but also to share the joy I had in discovering her work by browsing her online collection of awesomeness. I predict that many of you will feel the power of her spell and become Mieke Roth fans, too, if you are not fortunate enough to be one yet.

sq-monkey

Squirrel monkey drawing by Mieke Roth

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,263 other followers