Down on the farm

What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare at huge, grotesque models of extinct animals? When people ask me why I am willing to wade through hordes of screaming rugrats in order to gaze upon such eyesores, I only have to point them to the famous poem that Wordsworth didn't write. And with that in mind, Niroot and I recently took a trip down to Godstone Farm in Surrey (that's in the south east of England, for all you forrins) to check out their newly-purchased menagerie of monstrosities.

(All photos by me, unless they're by Niroot, in which case they're marked 'NP'.)

I've got a strong urge to fly...but I got nowhere to fly to

According to an article in the local rag, the models were purchased second-hand from "a closed-down attraction in Berkshire". Happily, this means they are of a distinctly retro bent and feature a number of sculpts that we've seen before on LITC, along with a few welcome surprises. The above Pteranodon (or 'Pterosaurus', as the farm would have it) is a quite stunning example of fibreglass grotesquerie, even if Living Dinosaurs' model sadly means that it isn't the strangest pterosaur model I've ever seen. Still, its super stretch-o-neck and screaming gob are quite something to behold. I do like that houses are visible in this shot - it gives the whole thing a rather Rodan feel.

The Pteranoderp is new to me, but this rather unfortunate fellow seems to follow me wherever I go - it's a mid-century-style Scolosaurus, complete with stumpy, spike-tipped tail, squishy fatness and gormless expression. The psychedelic mushrooms in the above shot aren't ever explained, and would appear to be a remnant from a previous attraction - nevertheless, they add a fantastically surreal touch to proceedings, evoking yet more memories of Blackgang Chine.

Here we see Niroot posing as moodily as he can against a backdrop featuring alpacas, a pretty hideous dinosaur model, and a sign with a photograph of a toy on it. 'Pterosaurus' aside, most of the facts presented on the (plentiful) signs are factually correct, even if they crib illustrations from some odd places. The Triceratops is another model that's popped up hither and thither, although nowhere near as often as my old friend (and obvious head-swap)...

...the forehead-horned gigantor Styracosaurus-thing!

Really, it's quite astonishing how many of these are out there. This one's seen better days, although I understand it took a bit of a battering in the winter storms we had. Here's hoping they'll have the old timer looking as bad as new very soon.

The final second-hand model in the set is this boring old hairy heffalump. It's livened up by still more psychedelic mushrooms and a terrifying tusk deformity. (OK, so it's probably just a painting error. I can't help but imagine them painting one side incorrectly, thinking 'Oh shit!', and then painting the other side to match. 'Hey, nobody will notice...')

NP

To pad out their collection, it seems that Godstone Farm purchased a set of smaller, newer models. The above Stegosaurus has had his feet buried in the mud by his grandchildren while he was asleep, and is now struggling to move - hence the furious expression.

NP

Nearby sits a curious frog on a set of painted lilypads. What's it doing there? I have no idea, but again, the eccentricity tickles me. Although if it's eccentricity you're after...

...you can't top a JP-esque 'raptor' model with only two fingers, peering out from within an admittedly quite impressive bower. This peculiar creation is labelled 'Tyrannosaurus' (no doubt 'cos of the missing fingers), and is also to be found...

...nestling in a seriously oversized egg (and among some speakers). Got to love those demented, slit pupil eyes. Close by, the mounted head of an 'adult' provides an amusing photo opportunity (as modelled below). Why, with the tooth row extending all the way under the orbit, one might be inclined to think that this theropod is of a basal, Early Jurassic lineage, perhaps related to the Dilophosauridae in some way. Or it might just be pop-culture tosh. Whatever.

NP

If one is to tire of the fibreglass lunacy, there are plenty of Real Dinosaurs to be had on the farm. My favourites are the rheas, even if they spend far too much time grazing, and nowhere near enough time showing off their crazy ratite flexi-necks. I love me some rhea neck.

Helmeted guinea fowl and crazy mop-headed chicken breeds, together at last!

NP

There are a particularly large number of chickens (makes sense, I suppose), with a wide variety of breeds on show. The farm's fondness for kippen might explain the following sign:

Although on the other hand, they might have just been looking for an excuse to use that image. Good grief. This will lead to the destruction of a great many bureaus, I feel.

So, yes, the dinosaurs are goofy. But is the attraction overall any good? Of course it is - there's a reason that the car park fills to the brim every weekend. With a great many opportunities to get close to farm animals, this is a fantastic place to give children an education in both natural history and the origins of their Happy Meal. Even for adults, there's the chance to get acquainted with some more unusual domestic animal breeds, including some lovely ducks, geese, and - of course - BLOODY CHICKENS. Naturally, it does depend on whether you give two shakes of a cornified fleshy appendage about domesticated animals - but why wouldn't you? They're fascinating too.

And on that note, I'll leave you with this picture of Niroot that I couldn't squeeze in anywhere else. With apologies for the nuclear glare.

Vintage Dinosaur Art: Prehistoric Monsters did the Strangest Things

While it would probably be more honest to replace 'did' with 'were' in the title of Prehistoric Monsters did the Strangest Things, it certainly makes the book an intriguing prospect. Exactly what were these antedeluvian beasties up to when not ineffectively disguising themselves with pondweed? Well, read on! Published in 1974 in the States, I'm borrowing this book from reader Patrick Bate. Hats (formed of aquatic vegetation) off to him.

As exemplified on the cover, the art style is somewhat cartoonish and stylised, with lovely bold washes and expressive animal faces. While maintaining an at least semi-serious approach to restoring extinct beasties, there is a certain irreverence in Michael Frith's style that is matched in the Hornblows' text. It's the sort of kid-friendly approach that doesn't shy away from describing creatures, very bluntly, as being dumber than a big heap of Fox News.

Scientifically, the book is certainly of a retro bent, as demonstrated no better than by its submersible sauropods. Frith's 'brontosaur' is a rather sad-looking, lumpen thing - like a sack of potatoes with a sullen turtle face poking out. Poor Bronto also suffers the indignity of being described as, yes, "terribly dumb". Still, I do like the inclusion of a lead on to the next page, featuring...

...Brachiosaurus, living in the awfully convenient Just So Lake (cue music). Of course, everything's better down where it's wetter; for here, the mush-brained titan could dine on water plants far away from the slavering jaws of tottering, tripodal theropods. Frith's illustration has definite shades of Burian, although Burian's water was notably less pink.

While slightly-less-than-contemporary science unfortunately reduces sauropods to uninteresting dullards, Frith has more fun with creatures that are permitted to be a little more active. His Stegosaurus looks fantastically cross, and seems poised to lash out at the nearby theropod, itself posed as if it is hitching up the edges of its skirts. The big girl's blouse. I love the declaration that Stegosaurus "liked cactus best of all" - there might not be an awful lot of evidence behind it, but such remarks add colour to a kids' book like this. Or at least, they make me smile. That's good enough, right? You'll permit me just this one, won't you? Wah!

Arranged in chronological order, the book moves on from the Jurassic to the Cretaceous, and so to hilariously goofy-looking retro-hadrosaurs. When I posted the above image on Facebook, a number of commenters remarked that it looked like a socket puppet - as indeed it does. It also has the mournful bovine eyes and frowny face to match its rather sorry state. In keeping with the submarine sauropods, hadrosaurs are here depicted as weird, saggy-skinned, web-fingered cowards with improbably shaped aqualungs attached to their (sock puppet) heads. They did the strangest things...like diving underwater when menaced by frog-headed tyrannosaurs (as below).

The pachycephalosaur isn't mentioned in the text, so it's not explicitly referred to as a hadrosaur, although this is somewhat implied. It's notable for looking rather nonplussed as the peanut-headed ones go for a splash.

Other retro dino book staples include Styracosaurus as a slightly less predictable stand-in for Triceratops. Referred to as the 'Frilly Monster', our pudgy hero 'clumps along' looking suitably grumpy as the local theropods timidly wave hello. I always enjoy the doughy, dragging tails these animals are given in books like these - '70s ceratopsians were often a world away from the glamorous, lame-joke-cracking movie stars of today.

As Triceratops' low-rent substitute, it's down to poor Styracosaurus to take on Rexy Frogmouth. It seems unfair that, of all the anachronistic animals it could fight, Styracosaurus was so often pitched against an animal that could defeat it by sitting on it. I think One Million Years BC was onto something in picking Ceratosaurus instead. But I digress. Rexy's a bit of a mess anatomically, with a weirdly pear-shaped body and puny legs, although his shark-black eyes (with red...pupils? Highlights?) are marvellous. More dark-eyed tyrannosaurs, please (see also: this model).

Of course, it's not all dinosaurs in this book - they just happen to be the illustrations that we're most interested in. The book runs the gamut from the origins of life to the modern day in its wonderfully playful style, featuring along the way a highly sinister Dimetrodon (above). To stare into its eyes is to seek only a profound emptiness that will penetrate your psyche and lead you to question the ultimate morality and purpose of your every act. Especially if you're a little pink-and-purple salamander-thingy.

Moving much further down the synapsid line, and Smilodon is also given a strikingly distressing treatment, no matter how Hanna-Barbera it might look. I'm especially fond of its evil grin. The text describes how Smilodon "stabbed and stabbed" its prey, before opening its mouth incredibly wide to wolf down great hunks of meat. It concludes:

"All the Smiladons [sic] died out thousands of years ago. That's a good thing. A Smiladon was cruel even when he was a kitten."

 Great stuff.

And finally...the book pays a well-deserved tribute to Mary Anning, culminating in this illustration of an ichthyosaur mount apparently modelled on a bounding dog. Still, the text here is quite lovely; a welcome reminder that modern palaeontology has been built through the dogged hard work of hundreds of individuals, and it's worth taking a moment to pay our respects. Here's to you, Mary Anning! And here's to Frith and the Hornblows for such a charming book. They don't write 'em like this anymore, etc...

Robosaurs in Rotterdam

Rotterdam seems to be a city in which every puffed-up, ever-so-avant garde architect of the last fifty years has been given free rein to erect whatever glass, steel, and/or jutting concrete monstrosity that they fancy. (As John Conway would say, 'take that, Rotterdam!') It seems only fitting, then, that the city should play host to the Living Dinosaurs expo - an exhibition of diverse, often impressively large, but never less than butt-ugly robot dinosaurs. Fans of prehistory-related kitsch will have a field day; palaeontologists may wish to avert their eyes.

Ironically, the building hosting Living Dinosaurs - the old Post Rotterdam - is actually rather lovely, being one of the relatively few buildings in the city centre to survive the Second World War. If only the robo-dinos were up to the job, this would be a suitably stately building for a gathering of prehistory's most majestic creatures. Alas, the models themselves are definitely of the 'rubbery and retro', sub-Dinamation-grade variety, and certainly not up to the standards of the finest that Japanese companies have to offer.

The route around the exhibition progresses, more-or-less, from the Late Triassic to the Late Cretaceous, opening with this rather crude - not to mention gigantic - Herrerasaurus. It's perhaps worth establishing from the off that absolutely none of the theropods have their forelimbs orientated correctly. In fact, all of the models have forelimbs that are incorect in one way or another, be it impossi-pronation, excessive claws on the digits, or even, sometimes, excessive digits.

There's also a bit of rather obvious economising going on, with some very different dinosaurs being treated as head-swaps of one another. (Hey, theropods - they were all about the same, right? Some just had more fingers or were a bit larger than the others. No biggie.) The above genero-theropod - identified as Yangchuanosaurus, for whatever reason - not only bears an uncanny resemblance to the Herrerasaurus, but appears to have exactly the same body as...

...this Monolophosaurus, right down to the paint job. Something similar is going on with the spinosaurs, which, save the sail, look uncannily like one another (despite their significantly different skulls in reality). They also share a number of inaccuracies with the Jurassic Park Spinozilla, including the paired lacrymal horns and overly-chunky jaws. In fact, they rather remind me of some of Pixelshack's creations, notably those created for the Brusatte/Benton coffee table crusher simply entitled Dinosaurs, which has a JP-esque spinosaur on the cover. If you ever wanted to see those dreadful CG creations writ large and robotic, here's your chance. Certainly, there's a similar degree of scientific fidelity going on here.

Admittedly, some of the models do impress through their sheer size alone. The centrepiece of the exhibition is a mightily big Mamenchisaurus, which is also one of the better models, even if that's not saying too much. Even when the anatomical blunders are as unavoidably obvious as a mariachi band to the face, it's always wonderful to be given an inkling of what it would have been like to stand next to a giant sauropod dinosaur...although they do it better in Amersfoort.

The full-size T. rex makes an impression too, even if it's less Sexy Rexy, more sad refugee from the early '90s. The head suffers from a serious case of the shrink-wraps, while the uniform teeth and peculiar crest configuration leave one wondering if they ever actually, you know, looked at a T. rex skull when designing this. My, wasn't Jurassic Park a long time ago...

Retro Rexy is accompanied by his offspring, Rexooki, who is essentially a snub-nosed, big-footed version of his dad (thus conclusively ignoring everything that is known about juvenile tyrannosaurs). There's something especially sad about the bunny-handed flailing of this little fella.

At least Tyrannosaurus remains recognisable as the unceasingly popular movie star we know and love. Some other beasts are not so fortunate. Without embiggening the below image to get a good look at that sign in the background, what would you guess the below animal to be? Well, you're wrong - it's Iguanodon. No, really.

Thankfully, Triceratops fares rather better, although it's not without is fair share of problems (very wrongly proportioned head and tail, woefully inaccurate feet, etc.). Again, its large size helps mask its flaws, as it helps excite the imagination as to what standing next to a real Triceratops would have been like. There would probably be fewer small Dutch schoolchildren, mostly as they'd be fleeing for their lives, clutching their chocolate spinkle sandwiches in their grubby little mits.

Of course, it's very easy to criticise - particularly when one encounters models as ghastly as these, miniature replicas of which wouldn't pass muster over at the Dinosaur Toy Blog. Surely there must be some positives to be had here? Indeed, there are, for the organisers saw fit to include an 'Evolution Room' that details the evolutionary history of the dinosaurs, culminating in present-day birds. Yes, in spite of what you might have inferred from its title, this is an exhibition that has no hesitation in declaring that Birds Are Dinosaurs! Kudos indeed to those involved in this aspect of the show, who are named over at the Living Dinosaurs 'about us' page. (We'll politely ignore the fact that the hall-of-hideous-robosaurs section of the expo also claims scientific authority, and in two languages no less, on a sign in the entrance hall.)

In addition, and in what must surely be quite a progressive move for a robo-dino show of this calibre, Living Dinosaurs includes animatronic feathered dinosaurs! Unfortunately, they're probably the worst of the lot. Say hello to dumpy Batman Microraptor.

Good grief. One glorious day, everyone who attempts to draw, paint or sculpt a feathered non-avian dinosaur, or indeed basal avian dinosaur, will remember that birds' hands support their wings...or that birds have hands at all. And the world will be as one. Until then, we'll just have to suffer things like this.

(By the way, the branch moves up and down, too. Quite why is a mystery, but it's agreeably hilarious.)

There are pterosaurs, too. Can they be any worse? Why yes, they can.

This is the sort of sight the likes of which is liable to make pterosaur researches break down into gibbering, broken shells of human beings, before dousing their eyes with concentrated bleach and welcoming the searing pain and onset of blindness as a distraction from ever having witnessed such an abomination of utterly failed palaeo-reconstruction. And it has five fingers, which is really stupid. Thankfully, we can always rely on Mark Witton to pop up and show us how things should be done.

And here he is, in the commendably educational Evolution Room. Thanks to you, Dr Witton, for a break from the eyesores. I hope they paid you handsomely.

Should you want to go and check out Living Dinosaurs - in spite of reading or, if you're anything like me, because you've read this article - then head to the Post Rotterdam in Rotterdam city centre, sometime between now and June 15. More info (in English and Nederlands) over at livingdinosaurs.nl.

Vintage Dinosaur Art: The Usborne Book of Dinosaurs

Whenever I mention Luis Rey in the context of being a palaeoartist whose work I'm rather fond of, I am normally met with a wrinkled nose, an arched eyebrow and an exclamation along the lines of 'really!?!'. Certainly Rey has his fair share of detractors, and one of the most common criticisms of his more recent work is that he's taken leave of his senses in Photoshop, cloning dinosaurs here, smearing photomanipulations there, and generally making a bit of a mess. There seems to be a quite widely held opinion that Rey's work is better when he sticks to paint and pencils. With that in mind, hopefully even the most ardent Rey-o-phobes will be interested in (and maybe even appreciate) seeing some early Rey � from 1993, in fact � in The Usborne Book of Dinosaurs.

Rey's style has remained consistent over the years � bright colours, dynamic poses, and chunky hornlets are definitely the order of the day. The cover tyrannosaur is instantly recognisable and quite lovely, with a convincing weightiness (no shrink-wrapping here) and excellent attention to detail, particularly when it comes to musculature and superficial details such as the birdlike elastic skin between the toes. (And so my worrisome theropod foot fetish is exposed yet again.) Through fortuitous coincidence - namely, the arms are facing the right way - it's actually aged rather well.

Inside we find a Coelophysis in a rather similar pose, decked out in a dashing red-and-black colour scheme (�Coelophysis looks very bright here,� an accompanying caption notes), complete with non-more-Rey yellow mouth. There's a dynamism to this piece that's quite lovely. It's also occurred to me that depicting Coelophysis with catlike slit pupils is something of a trope � it's entirely a stylistic choice, but one that seems to be followed by quite a number of artists. Whatever � I like the rather mad, staring look that Rey imbues it with.

Rey's recent foray into the territory of feathered Tyrannosaurus was met with disdain by some, inviting unfavourable comparisons with hypothetical enormous, bipedal porcupine hybrids and Sonic the Hedgehog. (I can see why, although they ain't so bad. You've at least got to love a bold take.) In light of all that, it's interesting to revisit the rather more sleek 1990s version, complete with chunky facial crustiness and nodular torso decoration. Rey's Rexy is particularly notable for its gorgeous legs � I mean, really, they're right up to here. Gigantic thighs and drumsticks that could keep every McDonald's in the US supplied with chicken nuggets for, ooh, a good five minutes or so � marvellous. Plus, bonus retro-'90s Spinosaurus as a bonus! And of course Spinosaurus was significantly smaller than T. rex, especially when convenient for action figure ranges.

Some of the most impressive creations in this book are, peculiarly enough, also the most obviously scientifically obsolescent, and also show up the sort of dross that we gladly lapped up in other books in the early '90s. Rey's 1993 Deinonychus seem so remarkably birdlike for their time only because Rey actually paid attention to the animal's skeleton; much as with Barlowe's Oviraptor, their appearance is less awesomebro reptilian killing machine, more unfortunate plucking victim. In Rey's case, this aspect is accentuated by the seemingly naked skin on the body, even extended to what appear to be 'goosebumps' on the thighs. One gets the impression that Rey would've feathered this dinobird, if not for the wishes of the publisher. (These days, he would flat-out refuse to paint such a thing, and indeed, by his own admission, he has.)

An interesting aside: although Rey has since ditched this look for a more turkey- or vulture-like take on Deinonychus, this colour scheme lives on in his illustrations (and models) of Velociraptor.

As per usual, if it's feathers you be wantin', you'd better weigh anchor at the Archaeopteryx page; the Urvogel is typically found failing to fit in with a bunch of dirty pterosaurs, as here. Because flying animals. One might well expect a Sparkleraptor given Rey's usual bold tendencies, and the great man surely delivers. This Archaeopteryx appears to be taking part in a carnival parade � it'd surely be more at home in Rio than in Solnhofen. �It ran along like a small meat-eating dinosaur,� the caption informs us. Well, I never...

Rey's eye for an arresting perspective is put to good use in what otherwise might have been a rather hackneyed image of Maiasaura, stuck with a nest full of bawling, pop-eyed sproglings as per bloody usual. The mother's enormous head appears to loom out of the page at us, a trick also used (albeit more literally) by John Sibbick in his Nat Geo pop-up book. Note also the pesky (I presume) troodont, yet again caught short ahead of the village fete, or perhaps just feeling extra-broody.

Speaking of heads looming out of the page...there's something quite unnerving, in the best sort of way, about having a sauropod peer in for a closer look at the viewer. Having been conditioned to view sauropods as 'gentle giants' analogous to loveable giraffoid moo-cows, it can be disconcerting to be reminded that they would have possessed that 'otherness' that all reptiles have from our mammalian point of view. This perspective emphasises the sheer strangeness of sauropods. You can't see it in this scan, but Rey also gets his hands and feet right � by no means a given back in the early '90s. The nostril placement is very retro, of course (if normal for the time), but you've got to love the snazzy colours.

A head-on perspective also suits Pacychephalosaurus, naturally, and Rey's illustration draws attention to the extraordinarily broad hips, as well as the fantastically spiky surface of the creature's skull. This illustration is worth comparing with a similar Rey piece in the Holtz-o-pedia; of the two, I think I prefer this one for its more straightforward, ground-level look at the animal, although the other one certainly boasts the more dazzling patterning.

 

And finally...Triceratops has at it. This is an absolutely gorgeous spread, and is perhaps all the better for its reining in of some of Rey's excesses � apart from where they are quite at home, namely on that stunning frill. The fine superficial details in the animals' scaly, folded skin, remarkably vicious-looking beaks, and rows of osteoderms are also to be commended. Some aesthetic tropes on show here may have since gone out of fashion (and I did notice the slightly shrunken hand), but this remains beautiful stuff, and proof � one would hope � that Rey's Worth It.

Coming next week: nothing from me, 'cos I'm off to the Netherlands where I hope to spend as much time drinking Belgian beers as possible. But I'll be back...

The Society of Palaeontology Fanciers

I have this compulsion that occasionally rises up, demands attention, prompts feverish work, and subsides until it sees fit to return. I am compelled to design the kinds of paleontology-inspired apparel, stickers, and whatnot that I'd like to wear. I'm kind of picky when it comes to graphic shirts, you see, and when I visit a big museum I'm always hoping that they'll have designs than hit me in my sweet spot. Let's call it graphic simplicity. If you've been hanging around here, you may remember me sharing such designs here in the past - I Left My Heart in a Prehistoric Age, Dinosaur Hearts, and of course the set of minimalist family crests that I came to call Cladistic Heraldry.

If this kind of stuff hits your sweet spot too, well, I've got some damn splendid news. I recently created a set of designs and I think they're pretty nice. I call the set The Society of Palaeontology Fanciers, and like the other projects I mentioned above, it gives to the chance to proclaim your allegiances to extinct taxa to the whole world.



These are all seven of the first batch. The impetus for the set came when I was doodling, and started playing with minimalistic renderings of stem-birds. I have to say that as I worked on the design above, of a vaguely deinonychosaurish animal, it was freeing to not to have its damned arms sticking out. When it comes to artistic renderings of animals closely related to modern birds, I find I am less and less satisfied with artists staying close to skeletal contours. In my doodling, I came to challenge myself to find a way to an iconic rendering of just such an animal. I didn't want it to be easily confused with a modern bird; or if it was on first glance, I want it to inspire a double take. Once I felt that I'd achieved it, I was in full-throttle design mode and I played with various non-avian dinosaur forms. Each took on a life of its own. One of the fun challenges of these sets I like to do is to resolve drastically differently scaled animals into a cohesive series. Once my dinosaurs were done, I was compelled to do a trilobite, specifically the Cambrian Oryctocephalus.

I'm flattered by the fact that when I do projects like this I get a lot of "do such and such!" or "what about whatchamataxon?" comments. I certainly want to do more. Before I do any more for extinct critters, however, I'm working on a set in hopes of doing a tiny bit to help extant raptors from going extinct. These I hope to realize as genuine embroidered patches which will be sold in the Indiana Raptor Center's new gift shop, and maybe down the line I could even have the capital to make patches of my paleontology designs, as well.

Anyhow, if you're moved to pick up a shirt or two, these are available in the base colors above, as white designs on dark colored shirts, or as black designs on light colored shirts, so no matter your preferred style and color, there should be something to your liking.

Mesozoic Miscellany 64

In the News

Atopodentatus! Atopodentatus! What in the heck is going on with that crazy mug? Brian Switek and Jaime Headden both sum up this Triassic marine reptile and its bizarre split, needle-toothed maw.

Gobivenator isn't as weird as Atopodentatus, but hey. New troodontid from Mongolia. More from Dave Hone, Everything Dinosaur, and Nobu Tamura.

Around the Dinoblogosphere

So, this silver age comic called The Wanderers once featured a dude morphing into a gloriously ugly Deinonychus. For the sole purpose of getting Biblical with a female Deinonychus. When do we get to the point that Hollywood is desperate enough to make this?

Dr. Michael Ryan's Palaeoblog is back!

At the Integrative Paleontologists, Sarah Werning drops some learning... about the blossoming world of paleontology podcasts. Please note that we also added a list of these to our sidebar. Also, Andy Farke discusses dinosaurs and chocolate.

The CBS Sherlock Holmes adaptation Elementary recently featured some consarned black market fossil rustlers. Switek's got it covered.

Dr. Bakker answers a burnin' question about the feet of Dipsy the Diplodocus at the Beyond Bones blog.

Luis Rey's artwork was featured in the closing credits of Walking With Dinosaurs 3D, which is great for Luis... only they didn't like, credit him. At his blog, Rey lays out all of the work that was featured. Also, in case you haven't heard, there is going to be a Cretaceous Cut of WWD3D on its Deluxe Edition 3D Blu-ray, so you may now applaud, hoot, holler, fist-pump, or stoically nod in approval. Whatever it is you do.

Mark Witton wants to write about the crocodyliformes of the Wealden Supergroup, so he's going to do it, dammit. Whether you like it or not!

Matt Martyniuk wants to write about the recently proposed Bohaiornithid clade of enantornithes, so he's going to do it, dammit. Whether you like it or not!

At Paleoillustrata, Stu Pond wrote about the beginning of his life as a PhD student, including much reviewing of literature for his research into Polacanthus foxii. Good luck, Stu!

Trish Arnold is awesome, so she created dinosaur versions of the popular Wuzzles� characters. If you're not on Twitter, she's reason enough to join.

Paleoart PickIn honor of Stu Pond and his studies, let's go with Polacanthus, shall we? Here's the most accurate one I've been able to find in an exhausting, eye-bleeding twelve hours of intense internetting. It's the work of Bill Swets, a retired fireman in Fort Collins, Colorado, who used to operate the Swetsville Zoo, populated by his own metal animal sculptures. Here's Polly Polacanthus.


Photo � Paul Turner, via Flickr.

Vintage Dinosaur Art: Prehistoric Animals (Brooke Bond Picture Cards)

Back when I were a wee lad, I were an avid collector of the various prehistory-themed picture cards that were given away with PG Tips teabags, Jacobs' dinosaur-shaped biscuits and the like. It's a practice that seems to have gone the way of PG Tips' ill-advised chimp-fronted advertising campaigns, but one with a long and noble prior history (with the caveat that the idea stems from the inclusion of picture cards in fag* packets, of course). Teabag peddlers Brooke Bond, who themselves owned PG Tips before being swallowed by sinister corporate behemoth Omnicor...uh...Unilever, produced a number of picture card series back in the day. Prehistoric Animals dates from 1972 (according to my dodgy internet-based research - the album itself isn't dated), and just how well some of the illustrations have aged may well surprise you.

This doesn't apply to the covers of course, although they are by a different artist to the cards themselves - namely, Michael Bell, N.D.D., M.S.I.A. (as he is credited within). While the unusual art style is to be welcomed, the front Tyrannosaurus and back Cetiosaurus (below) are straight-up Neave Parker knock-offs. Eye-catching enough, but rather lazy - not to mention retrograde. Even by the '70s, Neave Parker's tubby, often sprawling creations were showing their age.

Happily, such an approach is not continued inside. In fact, both the illustrations and, especially, the text are very much up-to-the-minute for the early 1970s, and this is no doubt thanks to the involvement of one Alan Charig (M.A., Ph.D., F.L.S., F.G.S., F.Z.S.), Natural History Museum palaeontologist and a man who did an awful lot of good work in science communication. Even if he was strangely reluctant to accept the notion that birds were dinosaurs. But we shan't mention that again. The sauropods below might still be tail-dragging, but note Charig's description of them as living "on firm dry land", in addition to his introductory paragraphs presenting an image of dinosaurs overall as highly successful, active animals with keen senses and the verve to look very graceful in a painterly portrait.

The illustrations - by Maurice Wilson (R.I.) - are undoubtedly charming, with a very sweet, almost naive quality about many of them, helped in no small part by their tiny size. The miniature format does present its pitfalls, of course. Where animals share a page, the authors/illustrators have - for the most part - opted for creatures that could easily be distinguished by someone's grandmother peering through her fingerprint-smeared reading specs from atop an orbiting satellite. It's easy to see why when one considers the few cases in which this wasn't possible.

Thanks to the cards' miniscule size and Wilson's penchant for swampy greens, certain animals (notably the above pair of long-necked theropods shown in lateral view) end up looking uncannily alike. Still, it's a problem that's avoided for the most part, and you've got to love any book (or card series...or whatever) from the 1970s that manages to not only include a high-kicking Deinonychus, pictured alongside two angry beards...

...but also an impressively modern-looking, svelte, tail-held-high Megalosaurus. Given that Parker-esque hunch-backed genero-theropods overwhelmingly represented Megalosaurus' public image far into the 1980s, this illustration is not to be sniffed at.

Given this, one might expect Sexy Rexy to also be sexily flexing his muscles and swishing his tail about (in an unnervingly attractive fashion) but, alas, no - we're lumbered with a meat-flailing man-in-suit interpretation. All the same, I'd like to draw readers' attention to the floral changes taking place - from ferns and cycads in the Megalosaurus painting, to fir trees and flowering plants alongside Rexy. Not bad for a series of miniatures. Astute readers may also note inherent similarities with John Sibbick's peculiar Normanpedia meat-swinging upright T. rex, which - just for a change - this piece actually predates. Also, bonus Deinocheirus arms as a bonus. Its description as a 'gigantic carnosaur' might be amusing in hindsight, but at least Charig doesn't refer to it as a slashertastic killing machine.

As usual, I've spent an inordinate amount of time on theropods. Other, inferior dinosaurs do appear, of course, such as the ceratopsians Protoceratops and Triceratops (below). Side-by-side, they neatly show the evolutionary path of these animals from the Campanian to the end of the Maastrichtian. Although sticking doggedly with the nest-bound-Protoceratops meme, Wilson commendably ditches the sprawling limbs so typical of earlier restorations. His Triceratops, meanwhile, is obviously based on the terribly outdated mount at London's Natural History Museum (it only has three toes per foot!), and so appears more retro than it might have. Nevertheless, they're possessed of plenty of charm and Wilson crams in some neat touches, such as the osteoderms on Triceratops' back.

 And finally...while I've only covered dinosaurs here, there are plenty more animal clades to be seen, even if you're out of luck if tetrapods aren't your bag. Saurians are the real stars (just check out the front cover), but synapsids get a significant look-in. Among them is quite possibly the most upliftingly jovial depiction of Dimetrodon ever seen. Just look at that joyous smile! It's enough to make one wonder why the beast's normally depicted as a Permian land-Jaws. It's all negative publicity put about by temnospondyl enthusiasts, I'm sure. Anything to alleviate those permanent long faces.

I might have to disappear for a while, as I'm moving into a new home and then sodding off to the Netherlands for a week. Rest assured though that, like your highly suppressed but still niggling notion that all human endeavour is ultimately utterly futile, I'll keep coming back to bother you. Eventually.


*Cigarettes, if you please.