#fossil rim

[sarikaposts]

The Dinosaur Capital of Texas

Hi...Hope you all enjoy reading this blog and soon plan to visit this beautiful place.

[luckybob158]

[alphynix]

Tachypleus syriacus was a horseshoe crab from the late Cretaceous (~100-95 million years ago) of what is now Lebanon.

Closely related to modern tri-spine horseshoe crabs, it displayed a similar level of sexual dimorphism. Females grew to at least 25cm long (~10"), with rounded front edges to their carapaces and shorter rear spines, while males were around 30% smaller with a scalloped shape to the front of their carapaces.

One recently described female specimen also preserves distinctive nodules around the rim of its carapace, which may represent some sort of sensory structure.

This particular specimen is also unique for preserving a coprolite in the process of being expelled from the horseshoe crab's body – that's right, it died while pooping.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

Bicknell, Russell DC, et al. "A unique example of the Late Cretaceous horseshoe crab Tachypleus syriacus preserves transitional bromalites." Alcheringa: An Australasian Journal of Palaeontology (2024): 1-6. https://doi.org/10.1080/03115518.2024.2348748

Bicknell, Russell DC, et al. "On the appendicular anatomy of the xiphosurid Tachypleus syriacus and the evolution of fossil horseshoe crab appendages." The Science of Nature 106.7 (2019): 38. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00114-019-1629-6

Lamsdell, James C., and Scott C. McKenzie. "Tachypleus syriacus (Woodward)—a sexually dimorphic Cretaceous crown limulid reveals underestimated horseshoe crab divergence times." Organisms Diversity & Evolution 15 (2015): 681-693. https://doi.org/10.1007/s13127-015-0229-3

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

To continue the theme of "wtaf is up with that sanctuary that feeds bears Twizzlers and camels Mountain Dew", here's another recent social media post I find rather concerning. Who the heck is giving cheetah - vulnerable animals with a very small population - to a sanctuary that is rabidly, openly anti-zoo and anti-conservation breeding?

The reason this stands out to me so much is that there just like... are not cheetah in sanctuaries in the US. Most cheetah in the US are part of a breeding program, either AZA's SSP or ZAA's AMP - it's not common to find them in even unaccredited zoos, much less newly moved to sanctuaries. Of the 400-some cheetah I found doing the big cat census in 2020, there were less than 10 in facilities that branded themselves as sanctuaries. So where did these cats come from?

What's more, okay, there's no trace of these ladies on social media before now. The Wild Animal Sanctuary is normally very open about their acquisitions, and no facility they've gotten animals from since their last USDA inspection has had cheetah. I haven't heard about any imported cheetah recently either, which is another thing you can check for this facility, because the majority of their rescues are imported from all over the world.

There's another weird thing about this post, too. Look at the language. It's all very "here's a cheetah! they're very happy outdoors in their nice habitat." And if you're not facility with this institution and their messaging, you might not catch why that's odd. This facility emphasizes, in every post they can, that their animals are rescued from horrible no-good very-bad abusive situations. Normally they name and shame if they can, or talk about how they came from the cub petting industry or private exploitation or such. There's none of that in this post, and it stands out because of it - especially because it's the first time these very rare, very charismatic big cats are being shared with their audience.

So where the heck did these cats come from?

Whelp.

Turns out the answer is AZA-accredited zoos. And whew, man, does that raise some questions.

Luckily these girls have some pretty distinctive names, so I was able to find them in the international and regional cheetah studbooks pretty easily. For both cats, the most recent listing in the studbooks was at AZA-accredited zoos in Texas: in 2020 Dahlila was living at Caldwell Zoo, and in 2022 Jaina was at Fossil Rim Wildlife Center.

Now, we don't know for sure that Caldwell and Fossil Rim are the facilities that chose to dump their cheetah in a sanctuary. There's some important context to know about exotic animal ownership and how animals leave AZA SSPs. General practice is that large charismatic mammals aren't bought and sold at AZA zoos, especially SSP animals, so animals sent out to other facilities for breeding or exhibition are moved around on loan. Sometimes their ownership changes with the transfer, but not always - it really depends on the species and how much control each facility wants to have over their animals. On top of that, the ownership of offspring sometimes alternates by litter or individual between the institutions that own the parents. When they're part of a cooperative breeding program none of that matters very much because all the animals are managed as a single population and moved as required for breeding and to fill empty display spaces. Where it's relevant is when an animal is removed from the SSP population - at that point it's totally up to the facility that owns it to choose where they live, as long as they send them somewhere AZA agrees is providing a reasonable standard of care. (This will be important in a little bit.)

So what we can tell from this situation is that Jaina and Dahlila were, for some reason, probably excessioned from the SSP in the last couple years. And whichever AZA facilities owned them decided to send them to The Wild Animal Sanctuary instead of finding a display-only placement at a zoo or safari park or similar facility.

Since I started writing this post, TWAS confirmed the origin of these girls in a Facebook comment.

I have real concerns about what appears to be an emerging trend of exotic animal exhibition facilities using sanctuaries as a "dumping ground" for their elderly or extra animals, in order to prioritize space for breeding or more desirable animals. I can't prove it yet, but there's been just enough weird transfers to have caught my attention. (In some cases, there's a good reason - sometimes all the habitats designed for the physical needs of elderly animals of a certain species already are full, and it's better for them to go somewhere they can exist more easily rather than trying to retrofit their current habitat - but it isn't every case). And here's the thing: many sanctuaries, like TWAS, message about how they have to exist to take all the discards from the zoo industry. In recent years that hasn't really been accurate, and historically, it did happen but not as commonly as it's portrayed. So... if that's true... and it's a bad thing... why are sanctuaries encouraging it by taking the animals zoos are transferring out to free up space? You'd think they'd want to say "find space in your own institutions and only call us if there's a crisis." (Money. The answer is money. Every new intake is used for marketing and drives additional donations.) Heck, why are zoos playing into that narrative, when they're frequently rebutting attacks claiming they discard the animals that aren't useful or aesthetic anymore?

All of this actually makes a lot of sense given how short on space all the AZA SSP programs are. Both in general, and for big cats, there are not enough spaces across accredited zoos to hold all the animals needed for sustainable populations. (This is why AZA just recently re-imagined their SSP programs, which is a whole other complicated mess that I am working on a writeup about). Recent political shifts within AZA corporate leadership have also discouraged collaborations between AZA-accredited zoos and non-AZA facilities, so while 20 years ago it would have been fine to move extraneous / non-breeding cats to smaller unaccredited facilities for display, that's less of an option. Which leaves sanctuaries as kind of the only politically appropriate option. This would also explain why the text of the post is so weird: there's probably a contract in place to prevent using their images to bash zoos.

The problem with sanctuaries as a solution for housing extra animals is, well, the quality of care they provide. If you haven't seen me say it before: sanctuaries are as varied in their expertise and function as zoos. In the case of The Wild Animal Sanctuary (and their other facilities, like the Refuge these cheetah are at) everything I have learned about them indicates that their animal care is highly questionable. Which is a problem, because - as mentioned earlier - AZA-accredited facilities are required to follow a responsible population management policy, which means ensuring that animals they send outside of AZA go somewhere that gives them high-quality care.

TWAS is an organization that prefers to feed big cats at multiple facilities frozen meat puree "frisbees" by chucking them over the fence. They don't have any way to separate co-housed cats to prevent conflict during feeding or resource guarding, because they don't build their enclosures with any sort of shift or lock-out areas. It's also unclear how they remove food waste without a way to shift animals out to go find it. (For bears they drive in on a truck into the habitat and then go on foot to clean, but I don't know if that's done with the big cats once they’ve been released from quarantine pens.

(These are my photos of food in carnivore habitats at TWAS this summer. Given the pest accumulation on the meat frisbee and the fact that I visited early in the day, it seems probable it was at least a day old.)

This is an organization that is ethically against training their animals for any reason: it's literally written into their statement of purpose as a “true sanctuary.” It's also described below, in a recent book published about the facility.

That policy means these cheetahs will not have a recall behavior, will not be trained for medical examinations or as a way to lower stress for procedures, and will not get the mental enrichment and interaction they're used to from regular training sessions. According to the book, medications are delivered on a long spoon / tongs tucked inside the cat equivalent of a pill pocket. (Which anyone with a pet cat knows falls apart as a plan if they're sick enough to not feel hungry).

I'm pretty sure there's no heated shelter for the large carnivores or bears at TWAS. The main shelter for animals at the Sanctuary is single-entrance concrete culverts buried underground far enough they're supposed to maintain a constant temperature all winter.

Sounds nice in theory, but with no second exit animals can get trapped down there, and there's no way to monitor them when they're inside. I don't know what type of shelter the Refuge provides, but it probably isn't much different. Even the quarantine spaces - smaller outdoor kennel-type pens with three exposed mesh panel walls - have no heat, and just an above-ground culvert block for them to curl up in. While cheetah are surprisingly adaptable to cold weather, winters in Colorado can be very harsh for prolonged periods of time.

As far as I know, most of the animals at facilities TWAS runs don't get regularly changed, novel enrichment. I've certainly never seen much in the habitats other than climbing structures when I've visited their main facility over the years, and most of their messaging around “toys” is semi-permanent furniture like giant telephone wire spools or a suspension bridge for climbing. I think some of the bears get balls? The messaging from TWAS is that their animal care is better because it's close to a natural life in the wild. Animals can be animals! When returned to their wild roots, animals shouldn't need anything from humans and are happier that way, etc.

When animals come to the Sanctuary (or the partner facility, the Refuge) they're literally chucked into a big fenced-off piece of land and left out there to "be cats" without human interaction except for feeding time and observations. Which is the polar opposite of what these cheetah are used to! AZA cheetahs, even those that aren't program animals, are intensely managed. They're used to regular human contact, frequent training, and constant enrichment. So what's "normal" for a wild cat is a far cry from what these cheetah girls have always known. That's not better - that's a loss of quality of life.

I don't understand how moving animals to places like TWAS is in line with AZA's Responsible Collection Management policy. I don't understand how AZA facilities think the type of husbandry the facility describes providing is acceptable. If another zoo utilized half the same care practices, they'd be drawn and quartered by their industry peers as well as by the public - and rightfully so. I don't understand why anyone wants to send animals there, based even just on what's easily observable. I don't have more information or really a conclusion, just that’s what's observable from an external vantage point is upsetting as heck and I worry for those cheetah girls.

[leaping-laelaps-art]

Sculpt of the small bivalved arthropod Gladioscutum lauriei from the middle Cambrian of Australia (after Hinz-Schallreuter & Jones 1994).

Gladioscutum had a body only 2-3 mm long, but, being undoubtedly aware of its disappointingly small size compared to its cooler Cambrian cousins like radiodonts and trilobites, tried to make up for it with a pair of (presumably) front-facing spines that were at least as long as the rest of the head shield.

Other than improving its self-esteem, the function of Gladioscutum's extremely elongated spines is unknown. The enlarged spines of other small Cambrian bivalved arthropods have been suggested to fulfill a sensory role, but this remains speculative (Zhang et al. 2014).

References and notes:

Gladioscutum was originally described as an "archaeocopid", an order that is now known to be an artificial grouping of various small bivalved arthropod fossils superficially resembling modern ostracod crustaceans. To my knowledge, the affinities of Gladioscutum have not been reinvestigated since its initial description, but its appearance (marginal rims, valve lobation, ornamented surface, simple hinge line) and age seem bradoriid-y enough (Hou et al. 2001) for me to more or less confidently reconstruct it as one (top scientific rigour as always on this blog).

Appendage morphology is unknown in Gladioscutum - what little soft anatomy I have not modestly hidden under the head hield is based on the bradoriid Indiana sp. from the Chengjiang Biota (Zhai et al. 2019). In that species, only the antennae are differentiated from the rest of the appendages, which has the double advantage of (1) not making crazy hypotheses about limb specialization in Gladioscutum and (2) giving me fewer different types of limbs to sculpt.

Like Gladioscutum, most bradoriids are only known from their decay-resistant valves, which are often squashed flat in a so-called "butterfly" position. This arrangement has been traditionally interpreted as the life position of the animals, which were implied to crawl over the seafloor like tiny crabs (e.g., Hou et al. 1996). Yet, undistorted fossils of head shields preserved in 3D are almost always closely drawn together, which is similar to the way modern bivalved arthropods like ostracods are articulated (protecting the soft limbs and body) and probably more reflective of the actual life position of bradoriids (Betts et al. 2016), as depicted here.

References:

Betts, M. J., Brock, G. A., & Paterson, J. R. (2016). Butterflies of the Cambrian benthos? Shield position in bradoriid arthropods. Lethaia, 49(4), 478–491. https://doi.org/10.1111/let.12160

Hinz-Schallreuter, I., & Jones, P. J. (1994). Gladioscutum lauriei n.gen. N.sp. (Archaeocopida) from the Middle Cambrian of the Georgina Basin, central Australia. Paläontologische Zeitschrift, 68(3), 361–375. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF02991349

Hou, X., Siveter, D. J., Williams, M., Walossek, D., & Bergström, J. (1997). Appendages of the arthropod Kunmingella from the early Cambrian of China: Its bearing on the systematic position of the Bradoriida and the fossil record of the Ostracoda. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London. Series B: Biological Sciences, 351(1344), 1131–1145. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.1996.0098

Hou, X., Siveter, D. J., Williams, M., & Xiang-hong, F. (2001). A monograph of the Bradoriid arthropods from the Lower Cambrian of SW China. Earth and Environmental Science Transactions of The Royal Society of Edinburgh, 92(3), 347–409. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0263593300000286

Zhai, D., Williams, M., Siveter, D. J., Harvey, T. H. P., Sansom, R. S., Gabbott, S. E., Siveter, D. J., Ma, X., Zhou, R., Liu, Y., & Hou, X. (2019). Variation in appendages in early Cambrian bradoriids reveals a wide range of body plans in stem-euarthropods. Communications Biology, 2(1), Article 1. https://doi.org/10.1038/s42003-019-0573-5

Zhang, H., Dong, X., & Xiao, S. (2014). New Bivalved Arthropods from the Cambrian (Series 3, Drumian Stage) of Western Hunan, South China. Acta Geologica Sinica - English Edition, 88(5), 1388–1396. https://doi.org/10.1111/1755-6724.12306

[vpofcookies]

Went to a rock pile today which is fun because some of them I'm like "yeah that's a fossil. No I don't know of what" and some it's like "that's gneiss" and then others I'm like "I found a piece of granite with orthoclase phenocrysts that have plagioclase reaction rims and biotite inclusions in a quartz and feldspar matrix"

[viewsofthecamera]

Emu- Fossil Rim Texas

[blueiscoool]

Fossilized Olive Leaves Found on Santorini, Greece

Fossilized olive leaves from a tree that was alive 60,000 years ago on the island of Thira (the modern Santorini) are immortalized in the volcanic ash that encased them after an eruption.

The exquisite fossils were discovered at an old pumice quarry on the outskirts of Thira, a town on Santorini; in addition, three new plant fossil sites were also located in abandoned quarries nearby on the island, which was almost completely destroyed in a later eruption that occurred in the year 1650 BC.

Blowing apart the island that at that time was called Thira by its Minoan inhabitants, all that was left was a rim of land encircling a caldera; now known as Santorini, the crescent-shaped island marks one of the most cataclysmic eruptions that has ever taken place within recorded history.

The fossilized olive leaves are now exhibited at the Museum of Prehistoric Thera in the capital Fira on Santorini.

[wordspinning]

Brothers

Wrote this little scene for TSIU, but I don’t think I’m gonna be able to use it, so I’m gonna give it to you here instead 💕

PG, baby Miller brother fluff/angst, cw: vomiting

Joel blinks, and suddenly it’s 6am on a Tuesday in 1981, and he’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom to wake Tommy for school. It’s been little more’n a year since the fire in the Bay that took their dad. Mama’s working third shift today, like she does most days, and Tommy’s class is going on a field trip to the Museum of Natural Science. It’s all he’s been talking about for the last three weeks straight.

Joel, Ms. Davis said we get to see a T-Rex skeleton! She said it’s actually called a fossil though because all the bones turned into rocks!

Joel, they have a giant drill there that goes down into the bottom of the ocean and finds all the oil and then sucks it up through a really big tube and puts it in boats like the one Daddy used to work on.

But when Joel flips on the light, he finds his eight-year-old little brother curled up against the headboard, clutching his stomach. A pile of soiled towels lays on the bed in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy blurts, eyes widening as he looks up at Joel. “I’ll clean it up.”

“It’s okay,” Joel shakes his head, brow furrowing as he lays a hand on his brother’s forehead and feels the searing fever.

“How many times did you throw up?” Joel asks.

“Just once,” Tommy pleads. “I feel better now.” But his teeth sink deep into his lip, and his eyes are red-rimmed.

“Ms. Davis runnin’ your field trip today?” Joel asks.

Tommy nods weakly.

“I’ll stay home with you,” Joel says, already dreading the call he’s going to have to make to Mama to get himself out of school.

“No, I wanna go,” Tommy pleads, his voice wavering. “Joel—“

Joel grimaces at the fever chills coursing down Tommy’s spine, the way the color drains from his face as he folds forward with a choked little whimper.

“Next time,” Joel says, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Tommy looks up at him, shocked and wounded, his eyes flooding with tears. “No,” he chokes on a sob, untangling himself from the sheets to scramble out of bed. “I’m going!” he shouts, pawing through his dresser drawer for his school clothes.

“Tommy,” Joel catches him by the shoulders. Tommy whirls and flails against his chest, little fists pounding on Joel’s ribs as he screams in frustration.

“Let me go I wanna go! You have to let me go!”

A moment later, he’s doubled over and puking on the floor at Joel’s feet.

Joel grimaces as the sharp heaves turn into sobs.

“Shh, s’alright,” Joel forces a softness into his voice as he picks Tommy up in his arms and deposits him gently back into bed, moving the soiled towels to the floor. His brother curls up on his side, sobbing so hard Joel’s afraid he’ll make himself throw up again.

“Hey, hey,” Joel leaves the mess for now and settles beside him. “You’re okay, Tommy.” He pulls the blanket up over his shoulders and runs a hand up and down his back. Tommy pushes him away at first, but after a few minutes, emerges to wrap his arms around Joel’s neck and bury his face in his shoulder as he cries. Joel winces at the heat pouring off of him, settling a hand on the back of his neck and rocking him softly.

“We’ll go, just you and me, okay?” Joel says, chest aching with the weight of the promise as soon as the words leave his mouth. He has no idea how he’s going to come up with the $10 cost of admission, or how they’ll get there. Mama needs the car most weekends and Joel only just got his permit.

“Really?” Tommy sniffles, a sob caught halfway in his throat.

“Yeah, ‘manito,” Joel says.

But they never did. Joel tried to hide away twenty bucks of his next paycheck from working at the Dairy Queen, but Mama always knew where to look. The next time he checked the drawer, it was gone. Summer break came a few weeks later and money was even tighter with havin’ to keep everyone fed breakfast, lunch, and dinner. By that time, Tommy was back to running around playing baseball with his buddies in the lot out back under the hot Houston sun, the sting of missing out seemingly long forgotten, and Joel didn’t have it in him to put up a fight.

[norabrice1701]

Coincidence - Ch. 5, Pt. II

Dr. Alan Grant x Predoctoral Student Fem!Reader

Series Main List

Ch. 5 Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including protected sexual intercourse); older man/younger woman relationship (no underage); explicit language; dinosaur PTSD; pining and inappropriate crush; Alan Grant’s canon upper-body strength

It doesn’t take long to exit the car and duck under the small awning on the backside of the house. The door opens and warm light floods the space to reveal a functional, tidy kitchen. At quick glance, you can’t tell if its neat state is because he seldom uses it or he’s just clean with his habits - but having seen his office, you suspect the former. He toes out of his shoes and drops his briefcase beside them before padding down the small hallway, turning on more lights as he goes. You follow suit with your wet shoes and set your purse down before following him. 

The house glows with golden light that bounces off warm wood paneling and shelves, leather couches and plaid armchairs. Piles of books rest here and there, intermixed with other curios of exploration - a globe on a spindle, binoculars and a leather case, magnifying glasses and various fossil specimens. It’s obviously a bachelor’s home, but it’s far from slovenly - more just… comfortably lived in. The thought brings a warm smile to your face as you silently follow him past the main living room and into a large, adjacent room. 

A tall and wide bookshelf dominates this room, lined with more books, spotted with artwork, and… are those vinyl records? You can’t help but step closer, squinting to better examine the narrow spines, and your smile widens. You’re not sure if you would have considered him to be a music fan, but there’s quite a surprising collection here. Glass clinks across the room, and you glance over your shoulder to see him standing at a bar cabinet opposite the worn, plaid couch and leather armchair. 

Brown liquid sloshes against a glass as he pours and meets your gaze. “What’s your poison?” 

“How about… whiskey?” It’s not your favorite, but it’s popular at the dig sites and you’ve acquired a taste for it. 

A smirk of approval flashes across his face before he tips the already open bottle over a second highball, and more liquid pours out. With both glasses in hand, he skirts around the couch to hand you one. 

With another heavy sigh, he holds his glass out. “Well, I guess… here’s to your next adventure.” 

“Thanks.” You sound sadder than you would like as your glass meets his with a gentle clink. The whiskey is surprisingly smooth as it slides down your throat, warming you from within. He motions towards the armchair before he drops to sit on the couch, taking another long pull of his drink. 

The chair’s springs feel a little worn, and you think it matches the style of the leather sofa in the living room - and the sudden thought that he bought two living room furniture sets and mixed them together makes you smirk against the rim of your glass. Swallowing another mouthful of whiskey, you glance back at the bookshelf. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you were a big music fan.” 

His gaze follows yours to the bookshelf, huffing an amused sigh. “I don’t think I am, really. I inherited most of that collection from the couple that used to live here.” He taps a finger against his glass. “They were an elderly couple, downsizing… and they asked if I had any interest in it. Truthfully, I’ve barely listened to any of it, but it was less furniture to have to buy.” 

You nod in consideration. “I suppose that does make sense.” Your gaze continues to sweep the room, and it looks like his office away from campus - or more like a study, perhaps. A desk rests behind the couch, flanking the bar cabinet, and the plaid couch looks comfortably broken-in as if it’s hosted him for many long nights of intellectual pursuits. Another silence falls, and maybe it should be awkward, but somehow… it’s not. Somehow, it’s enough just to sit with him now. 

“Thank you.” He says at length, drawing your attention to his small, appreciative smile. “For what you did back there and not… not making a big deal about it. Or… asking any questions.” 

“Of course.” You easily reply. “You… you didn’t make a big deal about it, either. Or ask any questions that day… of the storm.” 

If possible, he looks even more world-weary as he takes another sip of whiskey. “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt. With the amount of damage done to the main tent canvas during that storm, you would have been hurt had you stayed, and that would have been on me.” 

“No, it wouldn’t,” you counter genty. “I signed all the legal waivers to be there. If I hurt myself because of a fucking panic attack, then that would have been no one’s fault but mine for not… well, for not admitting that I was a safety hazard to the excavation.” 

“You’re not a safety hazard.” He shakes his head dismissively. “Not anymore than I am because I…” His words trail off with a sigh before bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I don’t know what I am…”

You wet your top lip before taking another sip of the heady liquor. “Well, who says that you have to be anything more than just yourself?” 

He goes still against the couch for a long moment before raising his head. His gaze finds yours as his brow furrows in deep contemplation. You can’t tell what he’s thinking behind those mesmerizing, slate-blue eyes of his, but you don't dare shy away from his gaze. In fact, you want to commit everything about it to memory as your heart starts racing. 

His eyes narrow with a familiar sharp, shrewd edge. “You know… out of all your peers, you’re the only one who hasn’t once asked me about it.” He tilts his head in further interest. “I know it’s not for your lack of curiosity - you’re far too bright for that - so, that must mean it was a deliberate choice on your part….” The corner of his mouth lifts with a knowing edge. “You’ve chosen not to ask me about the articles, the rumors, or about the island, about… any of it.”

Your mouth goes dry and you resist the sudden urge to fidget against the chair. “Because it’s none of my business. It never has been.” Your fingers tighten against the highball. “Ever since the dig was canceled - ever since you told us not to give any statements to the media - you’ve known more than what you’ve been saying, but if you’re not saying it, then there must be a good reason why. And asking you just seemed… disrespectful.” 

His shoulders sag under some invisible weight and he exhales another deep sigh before lifting his glass and draining it. His tongue darts out to catch a stray drop on his bottom lip as his eyes turn distant. “It’s worse at night,” he whispers solemnly. “The moving shadows, the flashing lights… yes, the T-Rex shook the ground when she walked, but she was adept at hiding it during the hunt. But the raptors…” his words trail off with a trembling sigh. “Both stunning - fascinating in their intelligence - and utterly… terrifying.” 

You forget how to breathe, shocked by the gravity of his words. 

He purses his lips, fingers clenching around the empty glass as if regretting its empty state. “There was one moment… the two raptors had us flanked, had the advantage… and there was nothing….” He shakes his head with a trembling breath and horrific memory. “Absolute death stared me in the face and all I could do was stare helplessly back…”

You wait on baited breath, speechless and dumbfounded. 

He gives another helpless shake of his head. “And, then when it didn’t come… and you find yourself back in the normal world - buying groceries, doing laundry, making small talk with the neighbors - but you’re still shell shocked by it, by all of it, by suddenly… coming face-to-face with creatures that have been extinct for 65 million years, that I’ve devoted my life to study-” His voice chokes up, suddenly pushing to his feet and avoiding your gaze as he returns to the bar cabinet. 

His sudden motion stirs you to action, and you swallow the rest of your whiskey before rising and joining him at the cabinet. He pours another measure for himself, and you hold your glass out for a second round. Your eyes linger on his profile all the while, wanting so desperately to reach out and touch him - to soothe his troubled brow, to wrap him in the tightest hug. 

Your heart beats so loud that you wonder if he can hear it. “And you’ve carried all of that with you since… since you returned? There’s been no one that you could tell?” 

“Ellie, of course.” He says before taking another hearty gulp. “But she was there, too - and we both… at first, we thought we could ignore it. But life never returned to normal, and neither did we.” 

Your heart breaks anew as the silence stretches. Too many thoughts run through your head and you take a big drink of whiskey to help clear your head. But the growing fog at the corners of your mind tells a different story. Emboldened with another drink, your gaze returns to linger on the handsome definition of his profile - the strong line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the sweep of hair across his brow. What would it be to kiss his cheek? To trail your lips down to his, hearing his breath catch in the moment before his mouth meets yours? 

With a trembling breath, you shake your head to steady your thoughts. “T-thank you for telling me.” You say softly, your voice thready in the silence. “I have been concerned for you these last months, you know. Watching you just lose yourself in your work, like… if you stopped, something horrible would catch you. And now… now, it makes perfect sense.” Heat rises in your cheeks and you take another fortifying drink of whiskey. “You bore all the questions and media scrutiny with dignity, though - you’ve never once lost your temper or told anyone to fuck off. Sounds like you’d be well within your right if you did, though. Hell, I think I would have done it at least once by now.” 

Another wave of exhaustion overtakes him as he looks lost for words. Clearly everything he’s been through has taken quite the toll and continues to haunt him - and goodness, how can you leave him now? Err, not that you should stay the night - certainly not uninvited - but how can you go to New Mexico and leave him alone? If you’re the only person who knows what he’s been through, then that does mean he really has no one else…? 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly, shaking his head with an air of shame. “That’s… a lot more than you bargained for tonight, I’m sure.” 

“No - please don’t apologize.” You reassure as your gaze roams freely over his face. “I think you needed the outlet, quite frankly. I’m just sorry that it manifested in a panic attack…” 

He glances over at you with a tired, lopsided smirk. “At least, I’m in good company - the best I could ask for, really.” 

Your heart warms at the sentiment and you’re helpless to hold back an answering smile as you all but melt under his gaze. “Same goes for you, you know.” 

Again, he holds out his glass to meet yours with another gentle clink before you each take another long drink. Endless questions swirl in the back of your brain because, seriously… what the fuck? Actual, living dinosaurs?! The how's and why's of such an impossible concept gnaw at your academic curiosity, urging you to keep asking him for details. But he looks so strung out and so tired, how could you possibly push him any further? In fact, maybe it's best if you just leave. Especially before you have the chance to do anything stupid  Swallowing the last mouthful of heady liquor, you take a deep breath. “Well, I should… I don’t want to be a bad houseguest and overstay my welcome.” 

“You haven’t overstayed anything,” he reassures gently. “It’s been nice to share a drink with you.” 

An appreciative smile curves your lips. “You, too.” You turn from the bar cabinet and thread back around the couch. The movement upends the lightheaded fog in your brain and your balance falters, tipping you towards the couch. You catch yourself with a steadying hand, and okay… maybe your meager dinner wasn’t enough for drinking whiskey. 

“Are you alright?” The gentle concern on his voice raises embarrassed heat in your cheeks as you try to offer a dismissive smile. 

“Yeah. I’m fine, thanks.” You try to ignore the dubious look on his face but your vibrato falters nonetheless. “Maybe just… my dinner wasn’t hearty enough for two glasses of whiskey.” 

An understanding look dawns on his face as he nods. “Well, if the dean would never forgive you for a car hitting me, then the dean would surely murder me if a former student gets a DUI on alcohol that can be traced back to my place.” His mouth curves with a suddenly shy, almost awkward smirk. “So, you can just… take my bed, and I’ll stay here on the couch.” 

Your mouth nearly falls agape as your cheeks flame. “Oh no, that’s… not necessary. You don’t need to be all chivalrous like that. I can just - the couch will be fine.” 

His eyes narrow with mild reproach as his grin sharpens. “Didn’t you just say that you don’t want to be a bad houseguest?” He taps a finger against his empty glass, waiting until you nod before continuing. “Then, stop refusing my hospitality.” 

Words choke in your throat as he starts to walk around the couch. Should you thank him again? Should you try to offer more protests? Your head spins as you suddenly feel deep in over your head and your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. 

“Just, uh…” He turns back around towards you, offering a small smile. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

You nod quickly. “Okay, thank you…” Your brain goes into overdrive, and, holy shit… you’re going to spend the night at Dr. Grant’s house. 

In his bed. 

By yourself. 

Nothing about any of that should be real, and truly, such thoughts are best left to your secret midnight fantasies… yet, here you are. You long for another steadying drink of whiskey - or, perhaps water, better yet - and you exhale nervously. There’s no reason for you to freak out about this - and despite your initial protests, he’s being the perfect gentleman about the whole thing - and really, why should you complain about that? Especially if it’s going to let you sleep in his bed. 

Looking for a distraction from your raging thoughts, you step back up to the wide bookcase and examine the spines of the vinyl record albums. Vaughn Monroe, Patsy Cline, Waylon Jennings, Dolly Parton - so many artists that you have passing knowledge about but can’t put your finger on any one specific song. It appears that the couple who used to live here had a heavy love of twangy country music. Was this their music room? Did they spend hours two-stepping or just listening and singing together? 

Somehow, you can’t picture Dr. Grant… Alan doing that. In fact, you can almost picture a grumpy scowl if the idea of dancing around a living room was even suggested. The image shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does all the same. 

The padding of bare feet on the hallway’s wood floor catches your attention, and you look up just in time to see him return. Gone are his clothes from the day, replaced with a soft looking white t-shirt, striped blue pajama pants and a bathrobe with a turquoise and brown Southwest-inspired pattern. It’s not the most coordinated look, but he seems perfectly at ease as he drops a pillow and blanket down to the couch. 

“The bed sheets are relatively clean - washed within the last two weeks,” he says softly. “And if you want to change, I laid out a clean shirt and shorts for you. Also, you’ll find a toothbrush still in the package and a new toothpaste on the bathroom counter.” 

Your heart warms with fond surprise. “Wow, uh - thanks. That’s all surprisingly thoughtful of you.” 

He tips his head, meeting your gaze from under his lowered brow with an almost teasing, admonishing edge. “Just because I’m not married doesn’t mean that I’ve always lived alone.” 

Your mouth curves to a soft smile. “I didn’t mean it like that… truly, I do appreciate it. I guess it’s just not what I expected…” Affection colors your voice as you hold his gaze for a long moment before blinking back to yourself. “Good night.” 

He nods in agreement. “Good night. If you need anything, please just ask.” 

You return his nod before stepping out into the hallway. Walking back to the kitchen, you retrieve your purse before disappearing into the bathroom. It doesn’t take you long to brush your teeth and get ready for bed - at least, to the best of your limited ability. His house is old enough to only have one bathroom in the main hallway, and you turn the light off, noticing that a faint yellow glow still shines out from his study. For a split-second, you debate going back to wish him good night again… but for what purpose? You don’t have anything else to say that hasn’t already been said. 

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you glance around at the tidy, cozy interior of his room. If he ran around in a mad dash to clean up the room or make the bed for you, it doesn’t show. In fact, the chair next to his closet still hosts an assortment of random clothing, and your heart warms at the knowledge that he didn’t make an attempt to be anything other than himself around you. A smile tugs at your face as you approach the bed, setting your purse down next to the nightstand. 

Your smile widens as you take in the quilted bedcover in shades of navy and maroon set against white sheets, along the clothes he laid out for you. Admittedly, sleeping in jeans and your shirt from the day doesn't sound comfortable, and you quickly shed your clothes. The cotton shorts’ elastic waistband rides low on your hips and his shirt hangs oversized on your bra-less shoulders, but they carry a clean, fuss-free scent that makes you even more eager to nestle under the bedcovers. 

Pulling back the quilt, you slide against the soft sheets before reaching to turn off the nightstand light. Settling against the pillow, your heart pounds in the darkness and you still can’t believe where you are… and who’s just sleeping down the hall. Though, that just makes his bed feel all the more empty. Especially as you drown in his scent, rolling onto your side and snuggling against the pillow. Your eyes drift closed as your fingers reach out against the mattress. 

What would it be to have him lying here beside you? To feel his body heat radiating under the covers and the promise of his skin within reach? Would his breathing grow steady as he falls asleep, or would it be heightened with anticipation, on the last verge of restraint like yours? And when your fingers find his arm in the stillness, would he roll towards you? Would his mouth find yours in a rush of unbridled desire as you finally learn the taste of his kiss? Your fingers would drift towards his waist, enticing him to settle atop you and let the weight of his body push you into the mattress while devouring each other. 

Your body comes alive with the runaway fantasy, gasping softly as your hips twitch with aching need against the mattress. Fuck, you want him in here with you - want to say whatever it takes for him to just fuck you with abandon. Not that you consider yourself well-versed in ways to drive men wild, but any of the scenarios that you can conjure sound so cheap and contrived - and you’re not just going to walk through his house naked. You want him to want you, too, and that’s a far harder thing to get. 

With a frustrated sigh, you roll over to your other side, gripping the sheet close. Before closing your eyes, you notice that no light shines under the door from the hallway. Perhaps it’s easier for him to just close his eyes on his couch and blissfully sleep, completely ignorant of the way you yearn for him. 

That thought doesn’t help you get to sleep any faster, tossing and turning to try and dispel the heat on your skin. When next you open your eyes, the room appears darker in the late unknown hour, and you roll over, drowsily snuggling back into the pillow. His scent wraps around you like a comforting blanket, and it’s easy to imagine that he’s spooned up behind you with the sleep-warmed weight of his arm draped across your midsection. But a faint glow of light from the crack under the door catches your attention. 

What is he possibly doing awake at - a quick glance to his bedside clock shows - 1:48 AM? 

Pulling back the covers, your feet connect with the carpet as you walk over to open the door. The light spills out from his study and with a quiet yawn, you do your best to ignore the hallway’s chilly wood floor as you approach. Leaning a shoulder against the door frame, you pivot around the corner and your brow furrows in confusion. The plaid couch is empty, but the pillow and blanket reveal that someone has at least tried to sleep there. You tilt your head to rest against the door frame and cross your arms as you suddenly hear the sound of running water in the dark kitchen. 

A smirk teases your lips as you glance over, watching him move in the shadows and emerge back into the soft glow from the study’s floor lamp. If possible, he looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him, not helped as his brow furrows with questioning concern. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” His voice carries the rasp of recent disuse and nothing about it should ripple goosebumps along your skin. 

“You didn’t.” You say softly, as if anything louder would be inappropriate at such a late hour. “I was already awake and I saw the light…” Your words trail off as you take in his appearance, noting the disappearance of his rather unflattering robe before lingering on the careworn lines of his face. “Trouble sleeping?” 

“Yeah…” His mouth curves with a tired smile. “You could say that.” He raises his right hand to scrub across his face, and your gaze zeroes in on the dark mark high on his forearm, just beneath his elbow. 

A strikingly elegant, black-ink tattoo in the shape of a double spiral rests on his skin, and everything about it sends your mind racing. You haven’t given it much thought since glimpsing it that one afternoon in his office, but it just seems so out of character for him. Yet here’s undeniable proof staring you in the face. 

And speaking of staring… your cheeks flush as you finally look away, only to see the knowing expression on his face as he catches your obvious interest. 

Your mouth goes dry as you search for something not too horribly awkward to say. “It’s beautiful,” you finally settle on. “A symbol of a rebellious youth?” 

“Not quite.” Distant fondness tinges his voice as he glances down at the swirling lines of ink. “It’s Kirituhi - an art form based on Māori-style tattoos. A reminder of my second home.” 

The excerpt of his bio from the newspaper flashes in your mind. “New Zealand, right?” 

He nods slowly. “We had several people of Māori descent on Joan’s digs over the years - and their culture is just fascinating. Their connection to the past, to the present - to honoring what came before as a way to look to the future… well, that stuck with me considering that I spend my career digging in the past to build my own future.” He pauses to draw a breath as you listen with rapt attention. “And the spiral symbolizes the continuity of life - and, just as the dinosaurs had their time on this earth, so will the human race.” His mouth quirks with a sardonic grin. “I guess all we can hope is that our skeletons fossilize just as well as the dinosaurs’ to preserve our own legacy.” 

Your heart melts as it goes out to him. It’s far more insightful than you would have expected, and that makes it all the more beautiful. Unable to stop yourself, you push off the wall and close the short distance between you. Your fingers reach out to his forearm, turning it for a better look in the low light. The piece reveals far more delicate, intricate lines up close, and you sweep an appreciative thumb over the inked art. “That makes it just…" Your voice drops to a whisper thin tone as the air thickens. "All the more beautiful." 

You raise your gaze to his, wanting to drown in the azure pools of his eyes, and electricity crackles between you. The heat from his forearm curls through you to settle low in your belly. He’s so close now, and your long simmering arousal rises to a boil. Can he see it on your face? Can he see how much you want to kiss him? To have him wrap you in his arms and hold you close? To make the outside world disappear under the weight of him above you and the touch of him deep inside you? 

Maybe it’s the late hour, maybe it’s the vulnerability of the moment, maybe it’s the fire singing in your blood - but you let your hand trail up from his tattoo, up over his exposed bicep and the sleeve of his t-shirt. A shuddering breath runs through him as he breaks your gaze, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Your breathing quickens as you rise to your tiptoes and lean in, letting your breath skim the shell of his ear. “Tell me to stop and I will.” You whisper, emboldened by the maddening scent of his skin as another shuddering breath leaves him. “Tell me that you want to go back to your couch, and I’ll go back to your bed.” Your voice trembles as you sigh. “And I’ll keep pretending that I haven’t been wet for you all night.”             

“Fucking hell…” His voice strains with the last thread of control as your fingers dance along the line of his shoulder. “You… we shouldn’t…” 

Your fingers find the fine hairs along the nape of his neck as the tip of your nose brushes the shell of his ear. “Stop looking for a way to make this wrong if this is what you want, too.” Your other hand searches out his left hand that’s clenched at his side. “It’s okay, Alan,” you breathe as you draw his hand towards you. “Touch me… please.”  

The sudden force of his kiss makes you dizzy as his arms envelop you with the strength that you've fantasized about. Your heart soars as it races, meeting his embrace head on, devouring him as you want to be devoured. You cling to the broad plane of his shoulders as he crushes you close, the heat of him burning through your - his - borrowed clothes. The heady thought sends more liquid heat pooling in your core and, God… why are you still in the hallway? 

You urge him forward, keeping the inferno of his body so close as you back towards the bedroom. His broad hands clench against the small of your back, groaning as he crowds you against the wall and the full press of your hips connect. The solid ridge of his erection makes your mouth water as you grind your hips forward. There's nothing about this man that you don't want, and you have no reason to hide. 

"You have no idea…" he groans with an intoxicating, wild edge. "What hearing you does to me…" 

Sparks shoot down your spine as your body burns. "Please, Alan," you whimper. "I need you."

The growl that rumbles in his chest bypasses all rational thought, and you nearly lose your feet as he pulls you away from the wall. Wrapped in his arms, tangled with his legs, trading kisses and nibbles and moans, your head spins until the solid weight of his bed appears behind you. 

You paw at the hem of his shirt until he lifts his arms and the fabric slides free. Your eyes widen with hungry appreciation, wanting to map each facet of his chest with your tongue but you burn too hot for that patience right now. He snakes a calloused hand under your oversized shirt, cupping your breast with a maddening squeeze and delicious pressure. Pleasure shoots straight to your dripping core, a needy moan echoing in your throat as you arch against him. 

"Please…" you breathe against his lips, gripping his waist to grind against his cock. "Fuck me… Alan." 

He groans and his arms clamp around your midsection, all but dragging you fully onto his bed. The force of his strength takes your breath away as you push at the waistband of his pajama pants and underwear. There's no grace in the kisses that dissolve to gasping breaths or the scramble of hands to reveal bare skin. And when the tip of his cock slides through your wetness, your tandem guttural groans echo in the stillness of the bedroom. 

"Wait, wait…" You manage to gasp, barely recognizing your own voice. "I'm not… we need -” your cheeks burn despite the intimate press of your bodies. "My bag has something, if you don't…"

He exhales a shuddering moan as if still struggling for control. Or perhaps he's embarrassed - a rational man of his intelligence so undone by his body. But then he skims his lips along your ear and his breath sears your skin. "And here I thought you were my innocent girl." The luscious, teasing rasp to his voice rushes more liquid heat through you. "Are you always so prepared, hmm?"

You struggle to breathe through the blinding surge of arousal. "A girl never knows when she'll meet the right guy…" Your nails dig into his back for emphasis, rewarded with his delicious gasp as you cradle his hips closer to yours. "And you've been the right guy for longer than I should admit." 

"Fuck, don't say that…" His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder as his hips surge forwards. The thick slide of him through your soaked folds nearly undoes you, but you paw at his shoulder with urgent need. 

"My bag… unless you have -" Your voice cuts off in a gasp as he shifts suddenly, reaching over you for the bedside table. The scrape of the wooden drawer and tear of foil heightens your anticipation before his strong, nimble fingers find purchase against your thigh. Following his coaxing movements, you spread your legs wide and wrap around his backside as he positions above you. His eyes blaze with wildfire as you lean up to kiss him, gasping as he eases forward in a slow, steady glide. 

Your eyes roll back at the thick, full stretch of him as your body adjusts to the delicious invasion. The kiss turns to a heavy, moaning breath as the connection threatens your sanity. You can't remember the last time - if ever - you've been so full of man, and your toes curl as you sink blissfully back against the mattress. 

"Having you in my clothes, in my bed… like this," his voice pitches deep as he drinks you in with dark, blown-wide eyes. "So goddamn gorgeous."

Words escape you as his hips roll back and surge forward, striking the deepest part of you. Electricity jolts through you as he thrusts again, and you surrender the last facet of your rational mind. Your body moves with his on primal instinct, driven to chase the euphoria promised each time he strikes your deep-rooted pleasure point. 

You cling to him as he moves over you, against you, inside you - and you’re so fucking close. The coil at the base of your spine winds tighter with each stroke that builds a rhythm to ruin you for life. His pleasured groans and grunts of exertion mingle with your staccato cries as your body goes taut, arching against him. Your orgasim hits hard, stars exploding behind your closed eyelids as waves of euphoria rock through you. His hips stutter to a stop as he buries himself in you with a strangled groan of relief.

The moment stretches to an eternity as you hold him close, wanting to burn the memory of him like this into your brain. Your lips trail along the defined line of his jaw as he nuzzles your cheek, and your breathing starts to settle out. His mouth finds yours for a long, lazy kiss as the afterglow deliciously numbs your senses. You hum contentedly against his lips. “That was so… beyond fucking good.” Every muscle relaxes against the mattress as your eyelids drop heavily with exhaustion. “I hope you’re able to sleep a little better now.” 

He half-sighs, half-laughs as the tip of his nose brushes yours. “Yeah… you, too.” 

You meet for another, slow kiss before you reluctantly let him go. It’s not nearly as awkward as you tell yourself it should be as he retreats to the bathroom, returns with a warm washcloth for you, and he steps into your - his - shorts before rejoining you in bed. You debate reaching for your discarded underwear but the hem of his shirt falls long enough, and a lingering thrill whispers through you as your bare lower half reconnects with his skin. 

In the room’s silence, he lays on his back as you snuggle up to his side. His arm comes around your shoulders, and you listen to the sound of his breathing, just existing with him as the waking world starts to yield to dreamland. 

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but you refuse to let him go until you have to. 

Series Main List

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Deposits of designated critical minerals needed to transition the world's energy systems away from fossil fuels may, ironically enough, be co-located with coal deposits that have been mined to produce the fossil fuel most implicated in climate change. Now, research led by the University of Utah has documented elevated concentrations of a key subset of critical minerals, known as rare earth elements, or REEs, in active mines rimming the Uinta coal belt of Colorado and Utah. These findings open the possibility that these mines could see a secondary resource stream in the form of metals used in renewable energy and numerous other high-tech applications, according to study co-author Lauren Birgenheier, an associate professor of geology and geophysics.

Read more.

[mineralsrocksandfossiltalks]

Fossil Friday: Echinoderms!

Echinoderms belong to the phylum Echinodermata and are usually recognized by their radial or pentamerous symmetry.

This group includes starfish, brittle stars,

sea urchins, sand dollars,

sea cucumbers, sea lilies, and a number of extinct genera.

They are found at every ocean depth on the sea floor and are the largest marine-only phylum.

Echinoderms have both ecologic and geologic significance. There are few other groupings so abundant on the deep sea abyssal plains as well as the shallower shelf environments. Most can reproduce asexually when needed and they can regenerate tissues, organs and limbs.

Geologically, their ossified skeletons can provide clues to the paleoenvironment and they are a major contributor to limestone creation and deposition.

The first definitive echinoderms evolved in the earl Cambrian Period during the Cambrian Explosion (with one possibly older than that if it is indeed, an echinoderm). The name echinoderm means "hedgehog skin" in Greek. There are 7,000 extant (living) species and around 13,000 extinct ones. But what did those earliest echinoderms look like? The answer is : not much like modern ones. Shocker, I know.

The oldest possible echinoderm, Arkarua, came from Edicaran-aged rocks (end Precambrian Era) in Australia. It was a small, disk-like fossil with a raised center, radial ridges along the rim and a five-pointed central depression marked with radial lines of five small dots. They ranged from 3-10 mm. Tiny little guys.

Cambrian echinoderms were a little less obvious, more like weird pedicure heel scrubbers. One did look a bit like an early crinoid, and the one in the corner looks a bit like a taser.

In younger rocks, you'll find things like cystoids, blastoids and crinoids and eventually starfish and other recognizable echinoderms.

cystoid

blastoid and crinoid

[champion-of-stone]

Pelipper mail! It's a small box of rocks, packaged with tissue paper and cloth napkins. There's a water stone with bubbles trapped inside it that makes interesting constellations when you hold it up to the light and rotate it, a geode labeled "sharp: nearly put this one in the pear wiggler for its crimes, please do not hurt yourself", an everstone with a smoky quartz protrusion, and a skull fossil with a pair of small prism spheres embedded in the outer rim.

~@gotta-pet-em-all

The pear wiggler. I’m sure that means something I’m not privy to.

As for the rest of these, they’re quite interesting! I wonder how most of these formed…

Thank you!

[alphynix]

Strange Symmetries #04: Even More Echinoderms

Early echinoderms seem to have gone through an asymmetrical phase before starting to evolving their characteristic radial symmetry. The first truly radial forms had three-way symmetry, but soon a group called the edrioasteroids upped that count to five.

First appearing in the fossil record around 525 million years ago in the early Cambrian, edrioasteroids were mostly shaped like discs or domes, and were immobile filter-feeders that lived permanently attached onto surfaces like the seafloor or the shells of other animals. Unlike most modern echinoderms their pentaradial symmetry was actually created by taking a tri-radial body plan and forking two of their arms near the bases to create a total of five.

Thresherodiscus ramosus was an unusal edrioasteroid that lived in the shallow seas of what is now central Canada during the late Ordovician, around 460-450 million years ago. Up to about 4cm in diameter (~1.6"), its arms split additional times at irregular intervals, creating a complex asymmetrical branching pattern across its upper surface.

The tips of its arms protruded slightly over the rim of its body, and along with the erratic extra branching this may have been an adaptation to increase its food-gathering surface area.

———

Another group of early pentaradial echinoderms known as the blastozoans were characterized by erect feeding appendages called brachioles. But some blastozoans abandoned their five-way symmetry in favor of much stranger arrangements, sometimes having as few as two arms – and, in some cases, two mouths.

Known from the same general area and time period as Thresherodiscus, Amygdalocystites radiatus was part of an Ordovician-to-early-Silurian lineage known as paracrinoids, which attached their irregularly-shaped bodies to the seafloor via a stem.

About 5cm long (~2") Amygdalocystites had just two asymmetric arms forming "food grooves" along its upper edge, each lined with numerous long brachioles along just one of their sides. It probably orientated itself so its body was facing down-current, which would have created eddies that brought suspended food particles within easier reach of its brachioles.

———

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[coprolite-posting]

Thinking about that one "how the US would do a kaiju" post and. I feel like NOPE might count? Like, I've seen at least @/bogleech compare it to the genre, and i can see the similarities- Jean Jacket is a critter, decently big, and brings ruin- while generally existing as an allegory in such (but still being, textually, A Creature)*. But I'd feel gravely remiss not to specify it's specifically a "Black (US)American kaiju" rather than a "general (US)American" one, out of respect for the creator(s) and also just. The film itself. You could maybe do an essay- or at least a short diatribe- about comparing/contrasting the scale of the film's events with more common genre standards and come up with some statement about how if atrocities befall a sufficiently minority (or directly marginalized) subset of the population, structures of power don't tend to like. Care. But I'm probably not going to write it because I'm white, kind of stupid, and- most crucially- don't have any sources on hand beyond "just watch the movie haha." Also? I'm sure something along those lines has already been written somewhere, come on.

One thing maybe-original I can say about NOPE is that a lot of people seem to assume Jean Jacket is an Actual Alien, or at least describe it as such, when I don't remember that ever being confirmed one way or another in the film? I guess it could've come from a director interview or something somewhere. Personally, if that isn't the case, it seems weird to insist on such a thing, when a) a lot of the latter half of the movie is dedicated to subverting and deconstructing the tropey "UFO alien spaceship" buildup, and b) there are plenty of terrestrial animals that have some similarity to the creature design, if not we're direct inspirations; guys like jellyfish and sea angles and maybe even rays if you Absolutely Need a vertebrate example for some reason. Despite living in a pretty dry biome in the film, Jean Jacket is pretty "marine animal"-coded to me. Besides waiting for something to drift into your mouth, sucking shit up is just kind of the default eating strategy down there! I know for a fact there was intent to portray the species as having existed "alongside" humans for a very long time**; I don't think a terrestrial origin is particularly outlandish, especially considering a creature that a) seems to lack or almost lack hard parts, and b) disintegrates upon death (more or less, from what I recall), wouldn't fossilize well.

*I should specify that the discussion is more around the "Godzilla represents nuclear warfare"-type filmography than the "giant monsters are really cool" concept. Anyone can do the latter, and probably already has. Hollywood has Pacific Rim, which I guess with the aliens at the end, you could say something about fears of colonization befalling the imperial core in a sort of role-reversal scenario, but you can say that about a lot of Hollywood sci-fi and adjacent cinema. Maybe even most of it, to be honest. (...I haven't watched the second one, and I've heard it isn't as good.)

**I think the design/behavior and worldbuilding/character reactions imply this well enough on their own, but I believe there was also a snippet of an interview somewhere that mentioned something along those lines. Not necessarily part of the work itself, I suppose, but outside context can enrich interpretation.

[inquisitorius-sin-bin]

Headcanuary Challenge - One Headcanon per Day

Day 3: Technology

_________________________________________________

Most would hesitate to associate the word "tech" with an Outer Rim planet such as Utapau. With sparse metal reserves and few established trade routes, many consider the planet to be archaic in such advancements.

In some regards, they are correct. Many of the droids found on Utapau are thousands of years old, if not older. Most natives rarely leave the planet, and use animal mounts in place of speeders or shuttles. However, some technology has made its way to the sinkhole cities over the years, particularly from interplanetary government officials and criminal organizations such as Wandering Star with operations stretching all the way to the heart of Coruscant and beyond.

The Separatist invasion also left behind broken down droids and abandoned ships, which the citizens of the city were quick to repurpose into service and protocol droids. A few ships made their way to capable pilots, but most were melted down to help fortify or rebuild areas of ossic architecture which were damaged during the war. Whatever was left was quickly used by the Empire in order to fuel their mining industry there.

Undoubtedly, even outside of wartime, mining equipment is the single largest technological import of the planet. In fact, they say widespread electrical and comm networks only exist on Utapau as a consequence of the fossil mining industry, essential in fueling urban growth on a world without significant forestries.

In addition, Pau City hosts the prestigious Prasteen Brak medical academy. While future doctors are trained in hands-on procedures as necessary in the remote sections of the Outer Rim, knowledge of the use of surgical droids is essential. Unfortunately, this has attracted the attention of criminal smuggling rings- attracted to the main source of new droid parts in the sector.

Still, other equipment is so commonplace throughout the galaxy that it becomes a commodity even in areas as remote as the surface plains. Plainsmen groups often make use of simple household items like macrobinoculars, though an entire clan may only have a handful of pairs between them.

End of Entry.

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