As a small child, this is the first
picture that I ever saw of Ceratogaulus – in my trusty How and Why
Wonder Book of Prehistoric Mammals, 1964 (© John Hull/Transworld – reproduced bere on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)
Horned rodents, devil's corkscrews, and terrible
snails may not seem to have a lot in common, but in reality these three
ostensibly separate strands are intricately intertwined within a singularly
unusual, interesting chapter in the history of zoological discovery, as now
revealed.
It all began in 1891, when geologist Dr Erwin H. Barbour
from the University of Nebraska was shown some extraordinary formations by local rancher Charles E.
Holmes in the Badlands of northwestern Nebraska, USA. Holmes and Dr Barbour colloquially dubbed them 'devil's
corkscrews', as they did indeed resemble gigantic subterranean screws, each one
penetrating several metres below the earth's surface, and constituting an elongated
spiral of hardened earth.
Daimonelix, illustration from 1892 (public domain)
Dr Barbour proposed that these were the fossilised remains of giant freshwater sponges, his theory having been influenced by the belief current at that time that the deposits in which they occurred, and which dated to the Miocene epoch approximately 20 million years ago, were the remains of a huge freshwater lake,
Moreover, recalling the informal 'devil's corkscrew'
nickname that he and Holmes had coined for them, in a short paper published by
the journal Science in 1892 Barbour gave to these perplexing structures
the formal scientific name Daimonelix ('devil's screw'), sometimes
spelled Daimonhelix or Daemonelix in later works. Not everyone,
however, was convinced by his theory that they were prehistoric sponges.
A number of authorities favoured the possibility
that they were artefacts, each one having been created by the intertwining of roots
from some form of prehistoric plant that had subsequently rotted away (or even
by pairs of prehistoric plants, one coiling tightly around the other), with the
spiral-shaped space that they had left behind becoming filled with mud,
ultimately yielding one of these remarkable giant underground 'screws'. And
once subsequent research had shown that the deposits containing them were not
the remains of a lake at all but were associated with semi-arid grassland
instead, even Barbour quietly abandoned his freshwater sponge proposal in
favour of the plant theory.
However, the name Daimonelix remained valid,
because although scientific genera and species names are generally given only
to organisms (modern-day or fossil), a notable exception to this nomenclatural
rule concerns ichnofossils or trace fossils. These are fossils not of organisms
themselves but of the traces left behind by them, such as footprints, burrows,
coprolites, feeding marks, plant root cavities, etc, and they too receive
scientific genera and (sometimes) species names.
Daimonelix, fossil rodent burrow, Sioux County,
Nebraska, Early Miocene, close-up (public domain)
A third theory concerning the nature of the devil's corkscrews was put forward by Dr Theodor Fuchs and Edward Drinker Cope, who independently suggested in 1893 that they were the fossilised burrows of a Miocene rodent. This notion attracted appreciable interest – but if true, what kind of rodent could have been responsible? One candidate favoured in various popular-format publications for quite some time during the 20th Century was a creature no less extraordinary than the corkscrews themselves.
In 1902, Dr William D. Matthew published a paper in
the Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History in which he
formally described a new species of fossil rodent hailing from Colorado and dating back to the Miocene, but which was so different
from all previously recorded species that it also required the creation of a
new genus. Based upon a skull found in 1898, he named this novel creature Ceratogaulus
rhinocerus – a very apt name, because, unique among all rodents at that
time, it bore a pair of short but very distinctive vertically-oriented horns,
sited laterally upon the dorsal surface of its nasal bones' posterior section.
In later years, three additional horned species
were discovered and named – Ceratogaulus anecdotus, C. hatcheri,
and C. minor. Some of these were initially housed in a separate genus, Epigaulus
(created in 1907), and C. minor has been reassigned by some workers to
the related genus Mylagaulus, but the current consensus is that all four
belong to Ceratogaulus. In addition, a fifth horned species, but which
unequivocally belongs to the genus Mylagaulus rather than Ceratogaulus,
was scientifically described as recently as 2012. Named Mylagaulus cornusaulax,
it lived in western Oklahoma during the Miocene. Four other Mylagaulus
species (not counting C. minor if classed as belonging to this genus) are
also known, but none of these was horned.
Known technically and collectively as mylagaulids,
the horned rodents and several closely-related genera of non-horned species constitute
an entirely extinct taxonomic family, existing from the Miocene to the Pliocene
and (in the case of the horned species) unique to North America, but belonging
to the squirrel lineage of rodents (Sciuromorpha). Moreover, examination of
complete and near-complete skeletal remains has revealed that they
superficially resembled marmots and other ground squirrels too, both in size (measuring
roughly 60 cm
long) and in overall appearance – except of course for the five horned species'
nasal horns, which make them the smallest horned mammals known to science. The
horned species are sometimes colloquially referred to as horned gophers, but
this is a misnomer, because gophers are only very distantly related to them.
'Horned marmot' would be a much more appropriate name.
Suggestions that the devil's corkscrews could be
the fossilised remains of burrows excavated by these rodents, utilising their
horns, attracted interest, and remained in contention as the solution to this
longstanding mystery until as recently as the 1970s (my little How and Why
Wonder Book of Prehistoric Mammals was still supporting it back in 1964).
However, studies focusing upon the precise conformation of their horns and
speculating upon what this conformation indicated in relation to their possible
functions revealed that such an idea was inherently and fatally flawed. Both
the position and the shape of the horns are inconsistent with their being
efficient digging tools.
By being located on the posterior rather than the
anterior section of the nasal bones, the horns could not be used for digging
through earth without the animal's muzzle constantly getting in the way,
severely impeding the efficiency of this activity. Moreover, in later species
the horns were positioned even further back than in the earlier ones, so it is
evident that these rodents' evolutionary development became increasingly
contrary to their horns being used as digging tools. The horns' very broad,
thick shape also argued persuasively against their effectiveness as digging
tools (it is nowadays believed that they served as defensive weapons instead).
And so too did the telling fact that no remains of horned rodents discovered in
direct association with devil's corkscrews had ever been documented.
But if the horned rodents were not responsible for
these structures, then what was? As far back as 1905, Dr Olaf A Peterson from
the Carnegie Museum had revealed that some of them contained fossilised bones
from Palaeocastor fossor and P. magnus - two prehistoric species
of small terrestrial beaver. They had existed in Nebraska and elsewhere in
North America's Great Plains region during the late Oligocene and Miocene
epochs. However, it was not until 1977 that their responsibility for creating
the devil's corkscrews was confirmed, via a scientific paper published in the
journal Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology, and authored
by Drs Larry D. Martin and D.K. Bennett.
In it, the authors disclosed that these enigmatic
underground spirals were in fact the helical shaft sections of Palaeocastor
burrows, each complete burrow consisting of a single entrance mound, a long
spiralled shaft, and a lower living chamber. These burrows also possessed
interconnecting side-passages, and the authors' paper revealed that very
extensive subterranean Palaeocastor colonies had existed (Dr Martin had
discovered one that contained over 200 separate burrows), which were comparable
in size and network complexity to the underground labyrinthine 'towns' or
'cities' produced by those modern-day North American ground squirrels known as
prairie dogs.
In addition, Martin's research at the University of Kansas had uncovered that the beavers excavated these screw-shaped burrow
shafts with their incisor teeth, not with their claws (as various previous
proponents of a rodent origin for such structures had wrongly assumed). For
instead of finding narrow claw marks on the burrow walls, which is what he had
expected, Martin instead discovered numerous broad grooves – which he was able
to duplicate exactly by scraping the incisors of fossil Palaeocastor
skulls into wet sand. The very regular spirals of their burrows' shafts (i.e.
the devil's corkscrews) had been constructed by the beavers via a continuous
series of either left-handed or right-handed incisor strokes.
And as final proof that Palaeocastor was
indeed the engineer of the devil's corkscrews, the wider chambers immediately
below these spiralled shafts were sometimes found to contain
perfectly-preserved fossil skeletons of adult beavers and beaver cubs, thereby
verifying that they were indeed the burrows' living quarters for these beavers.
After almost a century, the mystery of North America's devil's corkscrews was a mystery no more; but
across the Atlantic in England, an equally spectacular edifice of spiralled
structure has continued to baffle the scientific world. Its name? Dinocochlea
– 'the terrible snail'.
In 1921, during the construction of a new arterial
road near Hastings in the Wealden area of Sussex, an enormous spiral-shaped
object was uncovered and excavated from early Cretaceous clay after having been
spotted by site engineer H.L. Tucker. Outwardly it resembled the spiralled
shell of certain marine gastropod molluscs, in particular those of the genus Turritella,
which is represented by numerous living and fossil species.
Accordingly, when it was formally described in 1922
by London's Natural History Museum molluscan specialist Dr Bernard B. Woodward
within the Geological Magazine, he named it Dinocochlea ingens,
and did indeed categorise it as a fossil gastropod, albeit one of immense
proportions.
Measuring more than 2 m in length, it was far bigger than any other
gastropod species known then, or now. However, this identification incited much
controversy.
For whereas spiralled gastropod shells normally
bear ridges and possess coils that taper to a point, Dinocochlea did not, and there were no
shell traces preserved with it either. Its freakishly large size was also
difficult to reconcile with a gastropod identity.
Recalling the devil's corkscrews of North America, was
it possible, therefore, that Dinocochlea was actually the fossilised
burrow of some still-undiscovered species of prehistoric rodent? Alternatively,
bearing in mind that it was uncovered near to a quarry famous for the quantity
of Iguanodon and other giant reptilian fossils discovered there, could
it be a dinosaur coprolite (fossilised faecal deposit)? Once again, however,
its gargantuan size (even for a coprolite of dinosaur origin!) and also its
spiralled shape's very precise, regular form argued against this, as did the
fact that there was no partially-digested organic material associated with it,
which is normally the case with preserved coprolites. So what could this very
curious, anomalous object be?
In June 2011, palaeontologist Dr Paul Taylor from London's Natural History Museum (where Dinocochlea
had been deposited following its discovery) officially presented a new and very
plausible explanation.
In a paper published by the Proceedings of the
Geologists' Association, he proposed that it had indeed originated as a
corkscrew-shaped burrow, but a horizontal one rather than the
vertically-oriented devil's corkscrews, and had not been created by any rodent
but instead by a fossil species of capitellid polychaete worm known as a
threadworm. Yet as these were only a few millimetres in diameter, how could so
tiny a creature have produced such a monstrously huge trace fossil as Dinocochlea?
Having examined cross-section specimens of it,
which revealed that they were filled with concentric bands of sediment
resembling the growth rings of tree trunks, Dr Taylor suggested that although
initially very small, this worm burrow had acted as a nucleus for concretion
growth (which is characterised by the presence of such rings or bands
internally).
That is, the space originally created by the burrow
would induce the movement into it of surrounding mineral cements, which would
themselves then leave behind a space that would in turn induce the movement
into it of more surrounding cements, and so on, until eventually, if conditions
for its preservation were just right, what began as a tiny thin worm burrow
would ultimately become enormously enlarged, yielding the very dramatic pseudo-gastropod,
mega-burrow trace fossil that we know today as Dinocochlea.
From horned marmots and burrow-digging beavers to
devil's corkscrews and terrible snails-that-weren't, it is evident that however
distant our planet's past may be, it still possesses the power to perplex,
surprise, inform, and fascinate us in a myriad of different ways.
The very attractive front cover of
the How and Why Wonder Book of Prehistoric Mammals (© John Hull/Transworld)
The "How and Why" books were pretty much my introduction to this subject too, and to the dinosaurs themselves. Also the "Marx" plastic toys, which usually agreed very well with the books when it comes to the animals' appearances.
ReplyDeleteYes indeed, as a very young child those books were instrumental in opening my eyes to the wonderful world of animals.
DeleteChildren today don't need sci-fi 3D animation to spark their imagination - they just need material like this... awesome stories and images about prehistoric life! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks very much - glad you enjoyed reading this!
DeleteGrowing up in Nebraska, I saw many examples of the Daimonelix. Thank you for the great article!
ReplyDeleteThanks very much James - glad you enjoyed reading it. It must have been great to see such remarkable fossils first-hand.
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