Lost and found

I'm currently reading Michael Novacek's fascinating book Dinosaurs of the Flaming Cliffs, which is about the expeditions led by Novacek into the backcountry of the Mongolian Gobi Desert in search of late Cretaceous dinosaur fossils.

And they found 'em.  In abundance.  The remains that Novacek's team unearthed changed our understanding of the evolution of dinosaurs and early mammals in central Asia -- I've already lost count of the number of new species his group found, and I'm only about a third of the way through the book.

What struck me, though, is the combination of physical and personal hardship that the team members were willing to tolerate to achieve their goals.  The Gobi Desert is, even today, largely untraveled and unmapped; the nomadic groups that live in its arid wastes have to keep moving to survive in a climate that is broiling hot in the summer and viciously cold in the winter, has little in the way of drinkable fresh water, and is thin pasturage for domestic animals even at the best of times.  These scientists launched into the arid badlands in old, Soviet-era trucks that broke down every time someone sneezed hard, with carefully-rationed food, water, and gasoline, and exactly zero margin for error.

The fact that they not only survived, but achieved their scientific goals (and then some), is downright astonishing.  And every other page, I've shaken my head and thought, "I would never have the courage to do something like this.  Not in a million years."

Keep in mind, too, that this is coming from someone who did his share of backcountry camping, mostly in the Cascades and Olympics of Washington State.  Being a teacher has its perks -- June, July, and August being top of the list -- and when I was in my twenties I frequently disappeared into the fir-shrouded forests during the summer for weeks at a time.  So I'm no stranger to sleeping outdoors and hiking with a heavy pack.  (Or at least I was.  Now that I am Of A Certain Age, I'm afraid my appreciation of the creature comforts has done nothing but increase.)

But still: I would never have been brave enough to take off into the wilds of Mongolia the way Novacek et al. did (repeatedly).  Which probably would have scotched any intent I might have had to become a paleontologist.

On the other hand, sometimes -- admittedly, it's probably rare -- great paleontological discoveries can come from merely opening the right drawer in a museum.  The reason the topic comes up (besides my current reading-in-progress) is the chance find by paleontologist Georgios Georgalis of the Institute of Systematics and Evolution of Animals of the Polish Academy of Sciences in Krakow, who was doing some research in London's Natural History Museum and stumbled across the bones of a very unusual fossil snake that had been overlooked for forty years.

Dubbed Paradoxophidion richardoweni -- "Richard Owen's paradoxical snake" -- it lived in England during the Eocene Epoch, something like 37 million years ago.  At that point, England was a great deal warmer than it is now.  The world was just exiting the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum, at eight degrees Celsius higher than today one of the highest global average temperatures ever recorded.  The hot times favored diversification of ectothermic animals -- such as snakes -- in what are now regions with much cooler climates.

"It was my childhood dream to be able to visit the Natural History Museum, let alone do research there," said study lead author Georgalis.  "So, when I saw these very weird vertebrae in the collection and knew that they were something new, it was a fantastic feeling.  It's especially exciting to have described an early diverging caenophidian snake, as there's not that much evidence about how they emerged. Paradoxophidion brings us closer to understanding how this happened."

The snake species, Georgalis said, seems to be related to a group called acrochordids now found only in southeast Asia and Australia -- although more study is needed to be certain.  And it also brought up the tantalizing question of what else might be hiding in museum drawers and cabinets.

"I'm planning to study a variety of snake fossils in the collection, including those originally studied by Richard Owen" Georgalis said.  "These include the remains of the giant aquatic snake Palaeophis, which were first found in England in the nineteenth century.  There are also several bones with differing morphology that haven't been investigated before that I'm interested in looking at.  These might represent new taxa and offer additional clues about snake evolution."

So I guess you don't need to endure sandstorms and blistering heat and terrible food to make significant contributions to the field.

This also highlights the critical importance of museums in the entire scientific enterprise.  I found out yesterday the amazing news that one of our best local museums, the Paleontological Research Institution/Museum of the Earth, has received enough donations to remain open -- funding cuts were looking likely to shutter it permanently.  On the one hand, I'm thrilled that enough people were willing to donate to keep this wonderful place going (and if you're willing, I encourage you to go to their website and do so as well -- even if they met their goal, they can still put every penny to good use).  On the other, though, isn't it sad that we never seem to run out of money for stuff like funding war and paying kickbacks to corporate billionaires, but cutting-edge scientific establishments that are inspirations to thousands basically have to hold a bake sale to stay in business?

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Matt Wedel, Yale brontosaurus, CC BY 4.0]

In any case, here's another puzzle piece adding to the picture of what the Earth was like tens of millions of years ago, that had been hidden away in a museum cabinet for four decades.  I find the whole thing endlessly fascinating, which probably explains why the topic of paleontology is such a frequent flier here at Skeptophilia. 

But as interested as I am, I still don't think I'd be brave enough to venture into the Gobi Desert to study it.

****************************************

Filling in the missing link

One of the chief values of science lies in its predictive power.

Once a theory has developed that accounts for all the known evidence, it then gives scientists new directions to pursue.  A classic example of this is Wolfgang Pauli's prediction in 1931 that there was a small, fast-moving particle that accounted for "lost" energy and momentum in beta decay (an example of which is the decay of carbon-14 into nitrogen-14).  Back then, they didn't have the technology to find it.  It took 28 years before Clyde Cowan and Fred Reines created a device that was able to detect it, and found a particle that had exactly the characteristics Pauli had predicted almost three decades earlier.  They named it the neutrino.

When this kind of thing happens, it's a real vindication of the theory itself.  Of course, sometimes it goes the other way -- there'll be a discovery that contradicts some part of the theory.  This forces revision of the theory to account for the new information.  Thus science's other amazing strength: its ability to self-correct.  As physicist John Baez put it, "When you do theoretical physics, sometimes you feel the high of discovering hidden truths about the physical universe.  Sometimes you feel the agony of suspecting that those "hidden truths" were probably just a bunch of baloney... or, realizing that you may never know.  Ultimately nature has the last word."

We had a nice example of that just this past week, not in physics but in evolutionary biology, with the discovery of two new species of dinosaurs at digs in Mongolia and China.  The species, named Bannykus and Xiyunykus, connected up two groups of dinosaurs in the Alvarezsauridae, which had tube-like snouts with tiny teeth, compact hands with narrow fingers and sharp claws, and (from the site of muscle attachment points on the skeleton) apparently had powerful pectoral muscles.  (You might guess, correctly, that they're thought to be allied to the earliest birds.)

The hand bones of Bannykus [photograph by Jonah Choiniere, University of Witwatersrand, South Africa]

The problem was, there were alvarezsaurids from the late Jurassic Period, 150 million years ago, and some from the late Cretaceous, 70 million years ago -- and nothing in between.  That's a pretty sizable gap.  These "missing link" situations are common enough.  Unsurprising, given how unlikely it is for a fossil to survive intact for hundreds of millions of years, not even considering how tricky fossil formation is in the first place.  The truth is that only a minuscule fraction of the species that have existed left fossils -- the lion's share of the biodiversity Earth has had is unknown and probably unknowable.

It must be said at this juncture that "missing links" do not cast evolution into doubt.  To quote Carl Sagan, "Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence."  But because paleontology, like any good science, develops theories with predictive value, you can make some guesses about what should be there in those gaps.

And last week, we had another example of evolutionary biology and paleontology making a prediction that was spot-on.  "When we see a transition like that in the fossil record, we always want to know how it happened," said Corwin Sullivan in an interview with CBC.   Sullivan, a professor of paleontology at the University of Alberta, co-authored the paper, titled "Two Early Cretaceous Fossils Document Transitional Stages in Alvarezsaurian Dinosaur Evolution," which appeared in the journal Current Biology.  "[T]hese animals are, in a sense, missing links," Sullivan said.  "The teeth are quite a bit smaller — and in particular in the alvarezsaurids of the late Cretaceous, which are usually interpreted as specialized for insect eating, the teeth get very small, they lose their serrations on a very fine scale...  It's probably a question of exploiting a food resource that was available.  They would have been competing with other theropods and other kinds of predators."

Which is pretty cool.  It's always nice when the scientists say, "Hey, based on what we know, this must exist," and presto, someone finds exactly what they predicted.  Maybe the specifics in this case would only be of interest to serious dinosaur nerds, but the bigger picture -- that science can allow us not only to analyze what we have hard evidence of, but to infer detailed information about the missing pieces when we don't -- is pretty inspiring.

*********************************

This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is part hard science, part the very human pursuit of truth.  In The Particle at the End of the Universe, physicist Sean Carroll writes about the studies and theoretical work that led to the discovery of the Higgs boson -- the particle Leon Lederman nicknamed "the God Particle" (which he later had cause to regret, causing him to quip that he should have named it "the goddamned particle").  The discovery required the teamwork of dozens of the best minds on Earth, and was finally vindicated when six years ago, a particle of exactly the characteristics Peter Higgs had described almost fifty years earlier was identified from data produced by the Large Hadron Collider.

Carroll's book is a wonderful look at how science is done, and how we have developed the ability to peer into the deepest secrets of the universe.

[If you purchase the book from Amazon using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to supporting Skeptophilia!]

Finding yourself

Today's story is more of a puzzlement than anything else.  It came to my attention thanks to a friend and loyal reader of Skeptophilia, who sent me a link to a site called What3Words with the message, "People will surely be making up conspiracy theories about the secret meaning of THESE words being attached to THAT place.  So I thought you might want to get the jump on them by making up your own."

What3Words turns out to be a "universal addressing system" that divides the entire world into 57 trillion three-meter-by-three-meter squares, and gives each of them a unique address made up of three random words.  My classroom, for example (or at least one three-by-three block of it) is extras.equine.outsmart.  As the "About" page explains it:

The world is poorly addressed. This is frustrating and costly in developed nations; and in developing nations this is life-threatening and growth limiting. 

What3Words is a unique combination of just 3 words that identifies a 3m x 3m square, anywhere on the planet. 

It’s far more accurate than a postal address and it’s much easier to remember, use and share than a set of coordinates. 

Better addressing improves customer experience, delivers business efficiencies, drives growth and helps the social & economic development of countries.

Which may well be true, but still strikes me as kind of weird.  Why do we need that kind of accuracy?  My classroom floor, for example, is about 7 meters by 12 meters in area.  So this means that just in my classroom alone, there are on the order of eight different "addresses."  If I cross the room, I've moved from "extras.equine.outsmart" to "ranch.speculated.dressing."  So what does that gain me?  If I order a pizza, and the delivery person can't find me when I'm six meters away, the pizza place needs to hire a new delivery person, not use a better addressing system.

I have to admit the map is fun to play with, though.  The assignment of the words seems random to me, although there may be a deeper structure there than I'm seeing.  The site explains:

Each What3Words language is powered by a wordlist of 25,000 – 40,000 dictionary words.  The wordlists go through multiple automated and human processes before being sorted by an algorithm that takes into account word length, distinctiveness, frequency, and ease of spelling and pronunciation. 

Offensive words and homophones (sale & sail) have been removed.  Simpler, more common words are allocated to more populated areas and the longest words are used in 3 word addresses in unpopulated areas.

I'm a little disappointed at the removal of the offensive words, because that could create an opportunity for a great deal of barbed hilarity.  Just think, for example, if the headquarters of the Church of Scientology were located at "bloody.fucking.nonsense."

And it does offer more precision, especially in areas that lack ordinary street systems (the site says it's already being used by the postal system in Mongolia).  But here in the United States, I'm not sure what's to be gained, especially since (most) house numbering systems are pretty logical.  You'd expect that 101 South Street would be next to 103 South Street, and across the road from 102 South Street, and most of the time you'd be correct.

What3Words addresses, on the other hand, don't tell you much of anything.  Good luck figuring out what "huge.mutant.weasel" is next to, for example.  The nuclear power plant, probably.

I guess some street addresses are equally bizarre, however.  [image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

There's also the problem of minor misspellings making a huge difference.  One corner of my classroom, in Trumansburg, New York, is "extras.equine.outsmart."  On the other hand, "extra.equine.outsmart" is in Salem, South Dakota, and "extras.equine.outsmarted" is in southern Peru.  At least if you're trying to find 219 East Main Street, Trumansburg, New York, USA, you won't be off by 6,000 kilometers.

And since there is no apparent rhyme or reason to the choice of words, I'm afraid my friend is quite right; it's only a matter of time before the conspiracy-minded start "discovering" their own meanings for What3Words addresses.  A search for the What3Words address "all.seeing.eye" came up with nothing, as did "new.world.order."  Most of the addresses I've seen are simply weird and random.  But there are bound to be some combinations that raise eyebrows, and believe me, someone is gonna find them.

Anyhow, that's our news from the "Who Even Thought Of This?" department.  So I'll sign off from my comfortable office at "mango.trinkets.embedding," and am heading for a nap in my hammock over at "corresponding.scream.spot," which seems a little misnamed.