It’s not often that one of our residents flees the roost to take up home elsewhere: usually once you’re in the Museum that’s it, accessioned for life (or, more accurately, death). However, one of our former dinosaur aisle characters is now looking for a new home…
The four-metre long Utahraptor model has been with the Museum since 2000, during which time it escaped to take up temporary residence in Blackwell’s book shop in Oxford city centre as part of the award-winning Goes to Town project. This time, however, the Utahraptor will be leaving us for the last time as part of a reorganisation of the Museum’s offsite store, where the model is currently residing.
The Utahraptor model in Blackwell’s bookshop as part of the Goes to Town project. Photo: Mike Peckett
But rather than just ditch this Cretaceous creature unceremoniously we’d like to offer it out to new keepers, ideally somewhere with a public space where the model can be enjoyed by others. So, fancy yourself as a dinosaur owner? If so, check out our selection form for details of what it takes to keep such a pet.
We’re asking people to make a case for the Utahraptor to move to their venue and we will donate the model free of charge to whoever is selected. The closing date for submissions is 5 August and the selected venue will be announced by 12 August. We need to deliver the model to its new home on or before 23 September.
“Get me outta this place!” – the Utahraptor is currently in the Museum’s offsite storage
At this point you probably want some Utahraptor facts to help with your decision, right? Well, here you go:
Utahraptor means ‘Utah’s predator’ and the animal is known from fragmentary fossils found only in Utah in the United States. There is just one known species, Utahraptor ostrommaysorum, which was alive in the early Cretaceous period, around 125 million years ago.
It is thought that like most dinosaurs of its type (dromaeosaurids) the Utahraptor was feathered, although no direct evidence has yet been found. The Museum’s model, made by Crawley Creatures, does not represent a feathered example of this species. It’s likely the beast was not bright orange too, but who knows?
From the comfort of our own homes, or even on a mobile device, we are accustomed to watching video footage from the most remote environments on Earth, and beyond. It is easy to take for granted this kind of visual access but we don’t have to go too far back in time to reach a point when the uninhabitable parts of the world remained much more mysterious. Then, the only windows into the nature of exotic locations were through drawings, paintings or collected specimens.
In museums, illustrations of nature were – and are – used in teaching to show what certain animals or environments look like. Along with our biological specimens, the Museum’s collections contain representations of animals whose natural appearance is not preserved after death, including a set of beautiful glassworks of British sea anemones.
These delicate models were created by the Blaschkas, a family which specialised in glasswork and ran a business spanning 300 years and nine generations. But it was only from the late 19th century that Leopold Blaschka, later to be joined by his son Rudolf Blaschka, turned his skills to making models of microscopic organisms and soft-bodied invertebrates for museums and universities.
The only Blaschka models at the Museum today form a series of British anemones, many of which are recognisable as the species and even individual animals illustrated in British Sea-Anemones and Corals published in 1860 by Philip Henry Gosse
Inspired by zoological specimens, scientific papers, and observation of living animals, as well as artworks showing colours and structures that were difficult to preserve or too small to show, the Blaschkas created thousands of glass models before they accepted a contract in 1886 to work exclusively at Harvard University on the Ware Collection of plant models.
Plate from Philip Henry Gosse, 1860. British Sea-Anemones showing many of the species in the Oxford University Museum of Natural History series. Public domain image from the Biodiversity Heritage Library. http://www.biodiversitylibrary.org
It is somewhat surprising that these incredibly fragile specimens made their way to museums and universities across the globe back in the 19th century and even more surprising that any have survived 150 years later.
Anemones tend to lose their shape and colour when preserved in fluid
Earlier this year the Corning Museum of Glass published an interactive map of marine invertebrate models showing the known locations of collections, or records of collections, of Blaschka glass models.
The models at the Museum, acquired in 1867, are thought to be some of the oldest surviving Blaschka glass models. Even though they are over 150 years old, and in some cases slightly inaccurate representations of species, they still show the vibrant colours and alien shapes of British anemones in a way that can’t be seen outside their living environments.
This is the first in a short series of articles to accompany the new Stone Age Primates temporary display at the Museum, created with the Primate Archaeology group at Oxford University. Here, Michael Haslam, ERC Senior Research Fellow in Primate Archaeology, outlines the importance of this emerging field of study.
Humans evolved over millions of years. You can see displays about this in natural history museums all over the world, usually with skulls of extinct ancestors such as Homo erectus. Alongside these bones there are often stone tools of various shapes and sizes, showing how our technology has also changed over time. Ultimately, human tool use has led all the way from sticks and stones to the computer, phone or tablet that you’re using to read these words.
However, for all those millions of years other members of our family were evolving too. What if we had an archaeological record for non-human animals as well? The Primate Archaeology project at Oxford University exists to answer this question.
‘The Rise of Modern Humans’ display in the Museum
Primates, the group that humans belong to, also includes apes and monkeys, as well as more remotely related animals such as lemurs. Yet when we see these animals in museums, they very rarely have a set of their own extinct ancestors on display, or any examples of the technologies that they have developed.
Why not? For one thing, it is difficult to find fossil ancestors of animals that live mostly in tropical forests because their bones aren’t preserved well in that environment. And most primates, like most animals, don’t use tools in the wild, so there is nothing left behind to tell us about their past behaviour.
But there is another reason. We view the human past as a series of ancestors evolving towards the way we are now; yet we tend to see monkeys and apes as unchanging over time. If asked to imagine a chimpanzee three million years ago, you would probably picture something that looks like a chimpanzee today. But modern chimpanzees didn’t exist back then, just as modern humans didn’t.
Wild chimpanzee at Bossou, Guinea. Photo by Michael Haslam.
The main reason we think of humans as changing and evolving is because of the archaeological evidence that we’ve collected. As we discovered more and more bones and stones it became clear that dozens of human ancestor species have lived on Earth, including close relatives such as the Neanderthals in Europe and Asia.
A hammerstone used by a capuchin, on display in the Museum
So what would we find if we looked for the archaeology of other primates? They don’t build cathedrals, or use pottery or metal, and they don’t leave behind written messages like the Egyptians, Maya or Romans did. That’s a problem. But the solution to the problem is actually the same one that archaeologists have always used for human ancestors: find the stone tools.
There are three types of wild primate that use stone tools: the chimpanzees of West Africa (Pan troglodytes verus); the Bearded Capuchin monkeys of Brazil (Sapajus libidinosus); and the Burmese Long-tailed Macaques of Southeast Asia (Macaca fasciaulria aurea). They mainly use stones as hand-held hammers, to break open hard foods such as nuts and shellfish. The capuchins also use stones to dig in the hard ground, which helps to protect their fingers when searching for roots or spiders to eat.
Wild long-tailed macaque using a stone tool at Laem Son National Park, Thailand. Photo by Michael Gumert.
The Primate Archaeology Project was set up at Oxford University in 2012, supported by the European Research Council. Since that time, our team has spent many months watching these animals use stone tools in the wild. We record how they select certain sizes and types of stones (you wouldn’t use a soft sponge as a hammer, and neither would they!), and how they carry their tools around from job to job like a modern tradesman. We used these observations to work out what primate tools look like today, and then we went digging into the past.
We found macaque tools buried in beach sands in western Thailand, and ancient capuchin tools in the forests of northeast Brazil. In both cases, we recognized the tools because they were similar to ones still in use today. Importantly, we also found that the tools were damaged in very particular ways by the monkeys that had used them, because hitting hard things together usually means that one of them gets broken.
Primate archaeology excavation, Serra da Capivara National Park, Brazil. Photo by Michael Haslam.
We used radiocarbon dating to work out that the archaeological capuchin tools were at least 600 years old. That means that there were monkeys sitting around in Brazil with stone hammers, cracking and eating nuts, before Christopher Columbus ever left Europe. Previous excavations in the Ivory Coast have found even older primate tools – chimpanzees there were using stone hammers more than 4,000 years ago!
Primate archaeology is still a new research field, with more questions than answers, but then so was human archaeology when it began. We really don’t know what technology apes and monkeys were using during the millions of years that they have evolved, but we are taking the first steps towards solving that mystery.
Stone Age Primates display in the Museum
Working with the Museum, the Primate Archaeology project team has put together a new temporary display, ‘Stone Age Primates’, to sit alongside the current human evolution cases in the Museum. In the display you can learn more about the research and see tools used by primates past and present. You can also follow the group on Twitter @primatearch.
by Leonidas-Romanos Davranoglou, DPhil student, Animal Flight Group, Department of Zoology, University of Oxford
Anyone walking on a summer day in hot places such as the Mediterranean or the tropics will have heard cicadas singing. Cicadas actually are among the loudest of all animals, singing at up to 120 dB – as loud as a passing freight train. In fact, you can damage your ear if a particularly loud species starts singing next to your head.
Some countries even have health and safety policies which prevent people from working outdoors when cicadas are singing. If a single cicada can sing that loud, you can imagine what a forest filled with them sounds like!
Tropical cicadas from the Museums’ collections
Only male cicadas sing, primarily to attract females, much like a Romeo singing to his Juliet. Females are mute, but they respond to males of their liking by flicking their wings, generating a loud click. Entomologists often mimic the female response by snapping their fingers under a tree containing cicadas. In this way, they can collect males eager to mate, which would otherwise be too high in the tree to reach.
An unpleasant parasitic fungus capitalises on this arrangement: The fungus basically consumes the innards of the male cicadas, causing their private parts to fall off – in effect castrating them. A castrated male may stop singing and as a result, other males try to mate with it, and in this way the fungus is transmitted from male to male.
But how do these famous (or notorious, if you find them annoying) cicadas produce these incredible sounds? This has remained a mystery since the time of the ancient Greeks, who admired these animals. But the matter was settled through a collaboration between Oxford University and Australian scientists. The physical process is not too complex and you can get a good idea how it works by using an empty plastic bottle.
Cicadas have a unique membrane on the sides of their abdomen called the tymbal membrane, which is strong but flexible. Internally, two huge muscles attach to this membrane. When the muscles contract, they pull and buckle the membrane inwards to produce a strong popping sound. You can imitate this by squeezing an empty plastic bottle in and out. Speed up this process by a few hundred buckles per second and you get a cicada’s song.
Dorsal view of the abdomen of the cicada Cicadetta flaveola, showing the two membranes on the sides of the abdomen (tymbal membrane).Lateral view of a dissected cicada, Lyristes plebejus. The huge muscle attaches to the tymbal memembrane, and pulls it inwards to generate a loud click. After the large muscle, the abdomen is largely hollow.
Producing sound however, is not enough. Just like we have to talk with a particular loudness so people can hear us, cicadas must find ways of amplifying their sound, so females can hear them from very far away. The way cicadas achieve this is via something called Helmholtz resonance. You can create this phenomenon by blowing air across the top of the empty bottle you just used to create the pop.
Blowing across a bottle produces sound due to the behaviour of air when it is confined in a container with an open hole. The abdomen of cicadas forms a Helmholtz resonator as well: it is completely hollow, and two openings on the underside, called tympana, act as the top of a bottle and radiate sound in the same way.
Ventral (underside) view of a dissected cicada, Lyristes plebejus. The large opening is the tympanum, which acts as the amplifier for the cicada’s song. The hole of an empty bottle behaves in the same way when you blow air over it.
The singing habits and unique anatomy of the cicadas are perhaps best summarized in a quote by 19th-century entomologist Jean Henri Fabre, who, poetically as always, said:
Assuredly one must be passionately devoted to music thus to clear one’s internal organs in order to make room for a musical box!
The White-Clawed Crayfish (Austropotamobius pallipes) is often assumed to be native in the UK, but was in fact brought across by monks in the Middle Ages from northern France
In the 1970s this was joined by a further seven invasive crayfish species from other parts of the world, but mainly from North America. Some of these species have a very restricted distribution in the UK, such as Procambarus acutus which is only known from a single pond in Windsor.
The most widespread of these is the Signal Crayfish, Pacifastacus leniusculus, which was introduced to Europe in the 1960s and reached the UK by 1975. It is now widespread in waterways around England, Wales and parts of Scotland. There are records of Signal Crayfish from all over Oxfordshire, in the River Thames, River Cherwell, canals and ponds, and they are fished for by many people as sport or food.
The Signal Crayfish is so named because of the blue-white patches on the underside of its claws, next to the finger joint. It is the easiest invasive species to identify given its large size, smooth carapace and signal spots.
The Red Swamp Crayfish (Procambarus clarkii), from North America, is an invasive species in the UK
There are a number of information sites to help with identification such as the UK Crayfish Hub run by Buglife. The Non-Native species website runs a recording scheme for sightings of all invasive species too. Don’t worry though, the huge Tasmanian Giant Crayfish (Astacopsis gouldi) shown in the video clip has not made it to our waterways!
Whilst increased levels of water pollution and habitat degradation, fragmentation and loss have played their part in the decline of many crayfish populations, several species are also significantly impacted by the introduction and spread of a disease known as ‘crayfish plague’, a fungal disease is carried by some North American species.
by Steven Williams, research student at Oxford Brookes University
I have been interested in Thorn Spiders since I was 12 years old. People are often afraid of spiders but the ones I study are not harmful to humans and I think they’re quite beautiful when you get up close and see them under a microscope.
They get the name ‘Thorn Spiders’ from the spines that protrude from their abdomen. These are assumed to be a defence mechanism but this has not been confirmed. The female Thorn Spiders are the ones with the larger spines – some reaching several centimetres in length; the males do not possess such striking features.
Steven Williams uses the Museum’s collections as part of his PhD research
My research revolves around how the different species of Thorn Spiders are related to each other and my aim is to create a kind of ‘family tree’ for the various species. I am also looking into the evolution of the spines and their habitats and distribution. They are commonly found across the Pan-Tropical region, with a few in the Americas and some in Australia. They are not found in Britain though unfortunately!
The handwriting on the specimen’s label confirms that it was collected by Charles Darwin
Here are my three favourite specimens of these spiders from the Museum’s collection. The Australian Jewel Spider/Christmas Spider (Austracantha minax), below, was collected by Charles Darwin on the Voyage of the Beagle when he stopped in Sydney, Australia.
I found this specimen when I was looking through the Museum’s dried spider collection; staff were not aware of its existence, and it is now stored with all the other Darwin specimens. We can confirm that it was collected by Darwin because the handwriting on the label is the same as in Darwin’s letters of correspondence.
An Australian Jewel Spider (Austracantha minax), collected by Charles Darwin during the Voyage of the Beagle
The metallic Thorn Spider (Gasteracantha scintillans), below, has a beautiful deep green metallic abdomen. It reminds me of a Ground Beetle’s wing cases and the rich metallic colour is something you wouldn’t normally see in spiders. They are only found in the Solomon Islands and this is a species I am working on currently for another area of my research, separate from my PhD.
Gasteracantha scintillans has an unusual metallic green abdomen
And this last one, Gasteracantha thorelli, I think is one of the coolest species of thorn spiders. I just love the large spines on this spider! The way the final pair of spines curve round reminds me of a bull’s horns.
Gasteracantha thorelli has some impressive spines that look like a bull’s ‘horns’
