BS&M returned this past Friday and, alas, I couldn’t attend. Luckily, the discussion centered on the Cretan footprints paper that guest blogger Sarah Hlubik covered in our last post, so you guys aren’t missing out on sweet, sweet new paper coverage.
What apparently went down on Friday was a lot of talk about bears. Were there bears in the area during the Miocene? Yep and yep. Can bears walk upright? Yep! What do bear tracks look like? Like this (according to one site, anyway). Does this mean we need to change our name to Bears, Stones, and Monkeys?
It seems the BS&M crowd is fairly skeptical about the claim of bipedal primate footprints in the Miocene, but loves them some possible bearpedality (thanks for that one, Fred). Personally, I’d love to see the authors find some body fossils of any potential candidate track-maker – and if it’s a primate, even better!
Until next time, I leave you with this (credit to Alex Pritchard):
An in-press paper, available in the Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association on Aug. 31, describes trackways dating to 5.7 mya on Crete (shown in this post’s lead image, from Gierlinski et al. ). This places them just before the Messinian Salinity Crisis, when the Mediterranean dried up, global climates were nice and warm, and the planet really did belong to the apes. A potential hominin trackway (let’s be real, any trackway at all) from this time period is WAY COOL for a couple of reasons:
1. Tracks do not preserve very well. Ever go walking along the beach and look behind you to see your footprints washed away by the next wave? Yeah, me too. Most footprints made in the dirt, sand, or mud, are going to be washed away or destroyed by other individuals, or simply smoothed over because there is so much water in the sediment. For tracks to preserve, they have to dry out a bit, and then be covered pretty quickly by sediment that is a little different in texture or that won’t end up squishing together with the underlying layer. So tracks at all are always really cool, and offer a glimpse into environments and animal communities that we generally don’t see.
2. The Miocene gets called the Planet of the Apes because of the intense radiation of apes that happened during that time period (23-5.3 mya). We know some about the vast array of species that must have occupied the Old World at that time, but there is a lot we don’t know (again, see how to become a fossil), and what we don’t know may have been living on ancient Crete and walking, at least some of the time. Suspensory locomotion evolved sometime during this period (see Pierolapithecus, Dendropithecus, and Dryopithecus), and many later Miocene apes were highly orthograde (which just means they sat upright). Today, suspensory locomotors include gibbons and orangutans, and these (also orthograde) apes are able to walk on two legs over the ground, so it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that a highly orthograde ape had to move across a relatively open, albeit somewhat gooey, landscape and did so on two legs.
3. Footprints can tell us a lot about who made them, even if they can’t tell us definitively who made them. Footprints can give us clues about how many toes, or digits, are on a foot, whether the toes had nails, hooves, or claws, and the overall shape of the foot. We can determine the direction individuals were walking, and get a general idea of a minimum number of individuals within a group (to an extent –preserved footprints should represent individuals who are walking over the landscape at roughly the same time, but who can say if they were there together). In this case, the authors claim that the footprints show a foot that resembles ours with all the toes, even the big toe, together, but without claws or a defined arch. Because of this, the authors claim that an original (basal) member of the Hominini clade (our own branch of the family tree) made these tracks, and suggest that whatever it was eventually gave rise to whatever we are now.
I’m not convinced, but I am certainly intrigued. At 5.7 mya, it post-dates early potential basal members of our lineage (Sahelanthropus and Orrorin) residing in Central and Eastern Africa, where current evidence overwhelmingly supports hominin evolution in savannah environments. Crete is a long way from any of these places, even if the Mediterranean Sea wasn’t a factor, and there are no Miocene ape fossils found particularly close to the trackways site. That doesn’t mean these footprints don’t belong to Miocene apes, but it makes it harder to argue that it was definitely an ape and not, say, a bear. Especially given the vast array of apes inhabiting the Planet of the Apes, I don’t have a problem with the possibility that more than one Miocene ape stood up to get across a flat surface, but it would be nice to point to a fossil close by in time and space and say, ‘Hey, it’s probably that guy!’.
Reference Gierliński, G.D., Niedźwiedzki, G., Lockley, M.G., Athanassiou, A., Fassoulas, C., Dubicka, Z., Boczarowski, A., Bennett, M.R. and Ahlberg, P.E. (2017). Possible hominin footprints from the late Miocene (c. 5.7 Ma) of Crete?. Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association.
Sarah Hlubik is a PhD candidate in the Department of Anthropology at Rutgers University. She works on early hominin control of fire at Koobi Fora, Kenya.
So, the big fossil news that the Leakey Foundation was teasing when last I posted? It was this:
BS&M Blog readers, meet Nyanzapithecus alesi, a new 13 million-year-old Miocene ape from Kenya. HOW COOL IS THAT?!
I will tell you how cool. VERY COOL. I’m biased (as always – because I pick the things I want to write about for the blog, which are things that I think are very cool), but seriously. There are a bunch of reasons this discovery is awesome, like:
3) You also rarely find infant material in the primate fossil record. (Yes, I know, the Taung Child is an exception to this rule, too.) Infant bones are smaller and more fragile than those of adults, which makes them even less likely to fossilize and be recovered later.
Alesi is also awesome, simply by virtue of being a Miocene ape (my Miocene bias is definitely showing). The Miocene (23-5.3 mya) often gets called a “planet of the apes” because there was a huge diversity of hominoids (the fancy taxonomic group name for apes, including us, is Hominoidea) that lived through Europe, Africa, and Asia at that time. Which is SUPER AWESOME because they were “experimenting” with different types of locomotion at that time (which is totally my jam), but also makes it really hard to tell our potential ancestors from our side-branch cousins. A classic problem for people who work on Miocene apes is that they have ape faces and monkey bodies, and the field disagrees about which is more important (the face or the body) for figuring out who is related to who. Hopefully one of the authors of the Alesi paper (shout out to Kelsey Pugh!) will be able to work some of these relationships out with her dissertation research.
My final thought/question (for now) on Alesi is: the authors suggest that gibbon-like features evolved in parallel several times in different branches of the hominoid lineage – why couldn’t these features be ancestral, rather than derived? If that was the case, it would just require that a different set of facial features evolved in parallel instead. So why the gibbon-like ones and not the other ones?
That’s all for now! Hopefully BS&M will be back on September 8th – catch you then!
The pelvis is the coolest skeletal element. I might be slightly biased, given that I wrote my dissertation on it. But probably not – it is, objectively, the coolest.
Why is the pelvis so cool? Because it can tell us a lot about how a primate walks around and gives birth, while simultaneously being super complicated to try to figure out.
Recently, two special issues of the scientific journal The Anatomical Record were published focusing exclusively on the pelvis. It was like your gift-receiving holiday of choice for pelvis nerds like me. (And, really, there can never be a true plethora of pelvis papers; the more pelvis papers, the better!) I’m finally getting around to reading them, so I figured I’d do a short series of posts on some of the ones that particularly interested me, starting with one on the ilium.
But first, a quick primer on the pelvis:
The pelvis is made up of two innominates (hipbones) and the sacrum/coccyx (tailbone). The two hipbones are themselves made up of three bones each (the ilium, ischium, and pubis) that fuse within the socket of the hip joint (called the acetabulum, which is Latin for “little vinegar cup”) around ages 16-18.
Anthropologists really dig the pelvis because ours is highly modified for walking on two feet (bipedalism), so it looks very different from the pelvis of our closest living relative, the chimpanzee.
The trend in paleoanthropology recently has been to think of our last common ancestor (LCA) with chimpanzees as being more chimp-like than human-like (though there are some who have argued against this, like the team that discovered Ardipithecus ramidus). So what might this mean for the anatomy of the pelvis of the LCA? Was it more chimp-like or more human-like, and how can we test this?
Hammond and Almecija set out to answer these questions in their contribution to the May special issue (“Lower Ilium Evolution in Apes and Hominins”). They focused on the lower ilium because it varies in length between primate species and the variation has been suggested to be related to differences in how different species move around. They used a combination of measurements, statistics, and tree-building programs to look at variation in lower ilium height within and between species, tried to reconstruct the pelvic anatomy of progressively older LCAs (including the chimp-human LCA and the LCA of all of the living apes), and then compared those reconstructions to some of the predictions that the Ardipithecus team made about the evolution of the pelvis when they published that fossil.
What they found (based on a really large sample of pelvic measurements from 58 humans, 112 great apes, 61 gibbons/siamangs, 95 Old World monkeys, 33 New World monkeys, and 8 fossils), was that the variation they saw in lower ilium height was not purely size-related, which suggests that there might be functional or evolutionary reasons behind it. They also found that gorillas have ilia that might resemble the primitive condition for all hominoids (apes + hominins) and that the chimp-human LCA probably had a shorter lower ilium than living chimpanzees, as had been suggested by the Ardipithecus team. What this means is that living chimpanzees and orangutans may have both independently evolved long lower ilia, which complicates our use of parsimony when building evolutionary trees; sometimes shared features don’t come from a common ancestor, but evolve (via similar pathways, from similar structures) in two related taxa due to similar pressures.
So what’s the take-home message? Well, a lot of people have suggested that there is a characteristic “ape-like” long lower ilium that is somehow functionally related to their locomotion, but that doesn’t seem to actually be the case. The innominate is a complicated bone and it’s not just how a primate gets around that influences it.
Also worth taking home: the pelvis is super cool and so are fossil apes.
If you dig the pelvis, stay tuned! This is the first post in what will be a short series on the pelvis. (Maybe short. Maybe not. Much like the evolutionary history of the lower ilium.)
Disclaimer: I have met/know the authors of this paper. And I’d be just as excited about it even if I didn’t because the lower ilium needs all the love it can get.
Reference Hammond, A.S. and Almécija, S. (2017). Lower ilium evolution in apes and hominins. The Anatomical Record, 300(5), 828-844.