dinosaurs in their time

As we all seek out responsible ways to enjoy our summer months while the world continues to respond to COVID-19, many of us are embracing the therapeutic effects of the great outdoors. One popular activity, especially in and around the Three Rivers, is fishing. Some modern fishes look positively primeval, as if they were hooked straight out of the Age of Dinosaurs and reeled into the present day. For July’s edition of Mesozoic Monthly, our star is Aspidorhynchus, one of the weird and wonderful fishes that inhabited the oceans of the Mesozoic Era.

Let’s start with a quick lesson on fish, for context. There are two main groups of bony fishes. One group, the class Sarcopterygii, are called the lobe-finned fishes because they have fleshy, limb-like fins that they use to paddle through the water like oars. The first vertebrates to go on land were sarcopterygians, and the descendants of these adventurous fish eventually evolved into amphibians, reptiles, and mammals – including us! Despite their prolific limbed descendants, sarcopterygians make up only a small fraction of fishes today. The vast majority of fish belong to the other class: Actinopterygii, or the ray-finned fishes. These fishes have delicate ray-like bones supporting thinly webbed fins instead of the meaty fins of the sarcopterygians. Actinopterygians are so successful that they dominate both freshwater and saltwater ecosystems, thrive in a variety of habitats, and fill various ecological niches. Such diverse lifestyles mean that actinopterygians come in many shapes and sizes. Nemo (a clownfish) is an actinopterygian. So is the barracuda that ate his mother, the catfish in the Monongahela River, and the unfortunate goldfish you won at the carnival as a kid. Most fossil fishes, like Aspidorhynchus for example, are also actinopterygians.

Aspidorhynchus is an extinct member of the order Holostei, nested, in diagrams of relatedness, within the class Actinopterygii. The only members of the Holostei today are gars and bowfins. Superficially, Aspidorhynchus looks like a gar, but it is more closely related to bowfins. Its name means “shield snout,” in reference to its pointy, swordfish-like upper jaw. Unlike swordfish, which lack teeth as adults, this snout was filled with many sharp teeth. The limited flexibility of its skull restricted its diet to tiny fish, two inches (5 centimeters) in diameter at the largest. Aspidorhynchus was not very large itself, its slender body only growing to approximately two feet (60 centimeters) in length. It was covered with ganoid scales, which are hard, diamond-shaped scales made with a shiny compound called ganoin. Only a few types of modern fishes have ganoid scales, including gar, sturgeon, and paddlefish.

Although species of Aspidorhynchus lived in the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods, we know that it encountered the same struggles as some modern fish due to several remarkable fossils. Just like swordfish, the pointy snout of Aspidorhynchus frequently got it into trouble by impaling other animals! The abundance of fossil evidence for this was provided by the unique conditions of the habitat preserved in the famous Solnhofen Limestone of Germany. In the Late Jurassic, this area was an isolated series of lagoons that accumulated a bottom layer of anoxic brine, which is extra-salty, low-oxygen water where oxygen-dependent (aerobic) life cannot survive. Despite this, the surface still teemed with life: fishes and marine reptiles dominated the water, small non-avian dinosaurs scurried along the shore, and pterosaurs (flying reptiles) and archaic birds flew overhead. The fish-eating pterosaur Rhamphorhynchus seems to have been a fairly frequent victim of the snout of Aspidorhynchus, with multiple fossils documenting unfortunate collisions in which the fish’s snout pierced and became entangled in the wing membrane of the pterosaur. (For a summary of pterosaur wings, check out the March edition of Mesozoic Monthly, on Nemicolopterus.) It’s obvious from the size of the animals that neither was trying to eat the other, but somehow, they became stuck together. As the two animals struggled to survive, they slowly drifted downward into the anoxic brine, where they suffocated and settled onto the bottom of the lagoon. If any other animals had tried to eat or otherwise disturb the corpses, they would have died in the brine as well, so the fossils of the Solnhofen Limestone are typically pristine and undisturbed by scavengers.

Because Aspidorhynchus lived only during the Mesozoic, there’s no chance that a modern-day angler will ever hook one. But should you find yourself fishing in one of Pennsylvania’s rivers or lakes this summer, and manage to land a gar or bowfin, pause for a moment and reflect on the ancient legacy of these fishes – a heritage that dates to the Age of Dinosaurs.

Lindsay Kastroll is a volunteer and paleontology student working in the Section of Vertebrate Paleontology at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

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The month of May that we’re living in is very different from the one we all anticipated at the start of the year. However, society somehow manages to march on. College students are still graduating, moms are still being celebrated, and Mesozoic Monthly continues! Our honoree for the month of May is known to have been a dedicated parent due to several specimens that show adults guarding eggs. Say hello to Citipati osmolskae!

A devoted Citipati parent guarding its nest. Some evidence suggests that the Citipati skeletons found atop nests may have been males (rather than females as was originally thought). Also, recent research indicates that—believe it or not—oviraptorid eggs were blue! Art by ginjaraptor on DeviantArt.

It might not look like it, but Citipati is a theropod, like the more famous dinosaurs Tyrannosaurus, Allosaurus, and Velociraptor. Most theropods were carnivores, sporting skulls with big toothy grins, but not all theropods were ravenous predators! There are several groups of theropods that evolved toothless beaks for specialized diets. One of the stars of Jurassic Park, Gallimimus, was part of a predominantly herbivorous group of beaked theropods called Ornithomimidae. Citipati belongs to another group of beaked theropods called Oviraptoridae. “Oviraptor” means “egg thief,” in reference to an old hypothesis that oviraptorids stole and ate eggs from other dinosaurs’ nests. The discovery of a Citipati skeleton perched in a brooding position atop a nest of eggs was pivotal in changing this idea. We now know that instead of stealing others’ eggs to eat, fossilized oviraptorids preserved near eggs were actually protecting their own eggs! The eggs in an oviraptorid’s nest were arranged in circles with a space in the center for the parent to sit and spread their feathered arms over their incubating young.

Citipati and other oviraptorids are closely related to one of Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s most bizarre dinosaurs, the ‘Chicken from Hell’ Anzu wyliei, shown here on display in the museum’s Dinosaurs in Their Time exhibition.

So, instead of eggs, what would the toothless beak of Citipati have been used to eat? Because most oviraptorid beaks are very deep, like those of modern parrots, most paleontologists infer that these dinosaurs ate mostly plants. However, this doesn’t necessarily mean that meat was off the menu; it would still have been possible for oviraptorids to have eaten small animals, making them omnivores. On top of its thick skull, Citipati possessed a tall, triangular crest that gave its small head a square-shaped profile. This crest was not as impressive as those on some other dinosaurs, but since Citipati grew to ten feet (three meters) long, the animal would still have been quite imposing. I certainly wouldn’t want to get between a Citipati parent and its eggs!

Citipati fossils are found in the modern Gobi Desert of Mongolia, in rocks known as the Djadokhta Formation. The Djadokhta rocks are made of sediments that were deposited late in the Cretaceous Period, preserving details of the ecosystem that existed there roughly 80–75 million years ago. The name Citipati means “funeral pyre lord,” which is fitting due to the hot environment in which this oviraptorid lived. Also, Citipati shares its name with a Buddhist deity that is believed to protect cemeteries from thieves, which is an appropriate parallel considering how the skeleton of this dinosaur was found guarding its fossilized nest.

Although the habitat Citipati lived in was a desert, like the Gobi Desert that is there today, this prehistoric desert was probably not as dry. In the event of rain, water gathered in temporary streams that drained the water to basins and oases. Since desert rain events are by definition few and far between, any animals that did not live near these oases would have needed to have adaptations for going without water for a long period of time. Some of the animals that lived in this unwelcoming environment alongside Citipati included everyone’s favorite small theropod Velociraptor, the hornless ceratopsian Protoceratops, and the tail-club wielding ankylosaur Pinacosaurus.

Lindsay Kastroll is a volunteer and paleontology student working in the Section of Vertebrate Paleontology at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.