This week I have another mystery sound from Cheryl Tipp at the British Library Wildlife Sound Archive and skull from the Horniman Museum & Gardens:
Do you think the sound and the skull are from the same species, and can you recognise which species?
You can send your answers on a postcard, or if you prefer just pop them in the comments section below… Have fun!
Last week I gave you this mystery sound and skull to identify, with a the additional challenge of asking whether they belong to the same species:
As it turns out several of you managed to get the bird in question. The wide variation and complexity of the song suggested a passerine bird, with a high degree of control of its syrinx. In fact, this species is named for its ability to produce loud and intricate calls containing a range of phrases (incidentally including mimicry of noises it has heard) – it’s a Song Thrush Turdus philomelos Brehm, 1831.
Song Thrush singing a song in a tree. By Taco Meeuwsen 2006
So well done to mark b, Mieke Roth and Melissa Harrison, who all managed to get the right bird. A big thanks also goes to Cheryl Tipp, curator of the Wildlife Sound Archive at the British Library, for supplying the song. I’d heartily recommend checking out the ‘language of birds‘ pages for more information on birdsong!
This week I have a double mystery for you. There is a sound recording from the British Library SOund Archive, courtesy of curator Cheryl Tipp and there is also a skull for you to identify:
Do you think that the sound and the skull belong to the same species, or do you think I’m trying to trick you?
You can put your thoughts, questions and suggestions in the comments section below. Have fun!
One of the more common types of public enquiry I get as a natural history curator is about spiders. Every year in September people start reporting large spiders that they don’t recognise and which therefore *must* be invasive species or tropical escapees from packets of bananas. Every year I either reassure (or disappoint) those people by explaining that the spider they have discovered is a common species in its fully-grown adult stage, sometimes looking a bit on the bloated side because it’s full of eggs.
Garden Spider (Araneus diadematus) full of eggs. Inset: comparison against non-gravid Garden Spider abdomen – note the characteristic cross pattern.
This year has been a bit more active on the spider enquiry front, because there has been a lot of scaremongering about spiders in the tabloid press. Beyond the usual September influx of sightings when adult male spiders become more active as they seek females to mate with, there has also been an increase in the number of requests for identification throughout the year, with people unnecessarily concerned about the Noble False Widow (Steatoda nobilis) spreading steadily northward as the global climate warms.
Male Giant House Spider (Eratigena atrica) on the lookout for females. Inset: note the ‘boxing glove’ shaped pedipalps that show that this is a male
With all this frenetic arachnological activity I thought it might be time to lay to rest some common misconceptions about spider bites and offer a reality check to counter some of the over-hyped reports of injuries blamed on spiders.
Spiders in Britain are pretty harmless critters. So far there have not been any reported deaths in the UK from spider bites ever. You are literally more likely to be killed by being struck by lightning.
This is partly because spiders very rarely bite people, despite what you might be told by the press. The UK is full of things that do bite however, such as mosquitoes, midges, horseflies, ticks, bed bugs and fleas. All of these unpleasant beasties have a reason for biting – they are after your blood. Spiders are not. They will generally only bite when they feel very threatened.
Another reason why spiders in the UK are not life-threatening is simply that their venom doesn’t pack enough punch. The most venomous spider living in the UK is the Noble False Widow, which can give a painful bite, similar in intensity to the sting of the Common Wasp (Vespula vulgaris).
Noble False Widow spider – a little visitor in my kitchen
Keep in mind that a Common Wasp is far more likely to sting you than a Noble False Widow is to bite you, since the spiders are not aggressive – they largely keep to themselves and they don’t try to mug you for whatever sugary food or drink you have available.
A few other spiders in the UK can also bite, sometimes painfully, but again their venom is meant for subduing small invertebrates rather than humans, so although you may get some pain and perhaps swelling some time after being bitten, that may persist for a few days, it shouldn’t cause you any serious problems unless it gets infected.
Now this is where it gets interesting. Cellulitis caused by bacteria like Staphylococcus aureus (or ‘staph’ for short) can commonly be mistaken for spider bites. Any bites, stings, scrapes, cuts or even hair follicles in the skin can open the underlying tissue to infection, leading to necrosis of the skin, similar to that caused by the bite of certain spider species – in particular the Brown Recluse (Loxosceles reclusa), which it’s worth noting does not occur in the UK.
Cellulitis – not a spider bite. Image by James Heilman, MD
In areas of the USA where the Brown Recluse is also not present, it still gets blamed for a large number of injuries that are actually caused by staph bacteria that are resistant to Methicillin antibiotics (this is the strain of bacterium more commonly known as MRSA). In one study assessing the possibility that MRSA had become established in a prison community, half of the study group incorrectly assumed that the symptoms of their MRSA infection were symptoms of having been bitten by a spider.
In fact, it seems that spiders regularly get blamed for injuries that they don’t cause. One American study reported 216 medical diagnoses of Recluse bites in Western states in 41 months, despite the fact that the spiders don’t naturally occur in those areas. In fact there had only ever been 35 confirmed sightings of Recluse spiders in the regions studied, which really doesn’t add up: how can non-existent spiders be biting people?
It seems that there are a few factors at play here, not least irrational arachnophobia fuelled by irresponsible reporting in the press. People are told about ‘deadly’ spiders and then when they get an infection they assume that it’s actually a reaction to a spider bite. They then tell the media they’ve been bitten by a spider and the vicious circle is complete.
People also assume that a bite has been caused by a spider because they have seen a spider nearby. However, that spider is probably an innocent bystander that’s more interested in eating the bloodsucking pest that actually caused the bite – assuming that it’s a bite at all and not cellulitis caused by something else.
A Cellar Spider (Pholcus phalangioides) intent on feeding on a another spider species and not remotely interested in biting humans
Finally, the effects of spider venoms are often very poorly understood, because they are so frequently conflated with a variety of other dermatological problems and the rarity of confirmed bites means that little research has ever been carried out. That means medical staff are operating from a poor information base and may rely on poor information when making a diagnosis. The danger here is that significant medical issues (such as the spread of MRSA) may be overlooked because spiders are being unfairly blamed.
So if you read a case in the media about some horrible ‘spider bite’ it’s sensible to remain a bit sceptical. If the spider wasn’t seen actually doing the biting, the chances are the injury wasn’t actually caused by a spider at all. More likely it’s an infected wound, maybe following a bite or sting from something else with a taste for human blood or the sweet things we eat ourselves.
Last Friday I gave you this mystery sound to identify courtesy of curator Cheryl Tipp at the British Library Sound Archive:
It provided a nice break from the usual bones and gave some of the live animal fans among you a chance to identify something that the usual bone fans might miss.
This distinctive call was recognised by stuart petch (@thelightoutside) and Kiki with henstridgesj coming close. It is the call of a male Black Grouse Tetrao [or Lyrurus depending on your taxonomic authority of choice] tetrix (Linnaeus, 1758).
Black Grouse by Vnp 2011
In the Spring, these striking birds take part in something called a lek, where the males competitively show-off in order to impress the females. They strut about in a special arena, flash their tails and make the call you heard in the recording. This allows the females to pick the most impressive specimen to father their offspring, presumably in order to have healthy young.
This kind of mating system is quite common in birds and song plays an important role, so I will be back with another song next Friday!
This week I don’t really have a mystery object, I have a mystery sound for you to identify from the British Library Sound Archive via the Curator of Wildlife Sounds, Cheryl Tipp.
Any idea what this is?
Patches is listening carefully
As usual you can put your thoughts in the comments section below. Have fun!
Last Friday I gave you this mystery skull to identify, which I discovered in a box of unidentified bits and bobs:
It was pretty obvious that it was the skull of a big cat of some kind, with most of you suggesting a Jaguar or Cheetah (either of which would make me very happy as we have the skull of neither in the Horniman collection). Unfortunately it appears to belong to neither.
As I’ve mentioned before, cats are quite difficult to differentiate from each other as they haven’t been diverging for all that long and their widespread distributions can mean that populations within a particular species can be quite variable in morphology. Leopards are a good example of this, with a (once continuous) range from Korea to South Africa.
Global distribution of the leopard (Panthera pardus) by Tommyknocker
As it turns out, this specimen is most likely from a Leopard Panthera pardus (Linnaeus, 1758), since it’s from an adult animal (as is clear from the well formed sagittal crest) but is on the small side for a Lion or Tiger and too big for a Cougar or Cheetah. It also lacks the broad post orbital region seen in the Cheetah and Snow Leopard, and it lacks the concave profile of both the Snow Leopard and Jaguar. All of these identification pointers can be found in this handy pdf by Margaret “Cookie” Sims.
Just to show you what I mean about the variability within a species, here’s a second skull from the same box, that also matches the Leopard identification.
I expect the big difference in size is largely down to sexual dimorphism, but as you can see the overall proportions are quite different as well. This may be a difference between widely separated populations, or it could just be individual variation – either way it goes to show that cats are hard to identify.
This week I have a mystery skull from the collections of the Horniman Museum & Gardens for you to have a go at identifying:
The family it belongs to may be easy to work out, but as we’ve experienced in the past, the species can be more difficult to establish.
Cryptic answers would be much appreciated, to give the less experienced a chance to work it out. Have fun!
Last Friday I gave you a variety of mandibles to have a go at identifying. They lacked a scale bar and represented a range of different species that have similarities in mandible shape.
There were some great cryptic suggestions of identities, but it must be said that Jake came through with a really clear and pretty much spot-on list of suggestions. So here are the answers in a handy form that might be useful for reference:
The Sheep and Cow have a distinctive upward inflexion at the end of the mandible, with the Cow’s being so strong that the incisors start above the level of the top of the molar tooth row – unlike the Sheep’s.
This inflexion is much less marked in the Red Deer, which has a narrower body of the mandible, presumably relating to the less intensive chewing of a browser compared to grazers (grass is tough stuff). The Deer also has a notch along the bottom of the jaw, which Jake pointed out as a useful feature.
The Pig mandible tapers less overall, but is thicker at the end with the articulation – presumably because the omnivorous Pig is chewing differently, using the temporal muscles more than the masseter muscles and therefore needing a different area of the jaw for muscle attachment. The teeth are also pretty distinctive. Like the Pig, the Donkey mandible lacks the long and hooked coronoid process, but is also very triangular in shape with quite squared teeth – features typical of an equid.
So hopefully that gives you some pointers for telling some common herbivore mandibles apart when you don’t have a scale bar – a more common problem for some of us than you might think…
This Friday I have a challenge for you. Can you work out which five different species these mandibles come from?
They are all different sizes and the lack of scale bars is deliberate – this is about trying to find useful features from the shape rather than the size, It’s not easy!
You can put your answers in the comments section below. Good luck!
Last Friday I gave you this nice robust skull to identify:
There was a healthy discussion about possible identifications, with the importance of scale mentioned more than once (by Jake, palaeosam, Lena and Robin Birrrdegg). Not only is this a robust skull, it’s also quite large, ruling out the British carnivores – and it clearly is a carnivore judging by the canines and the well-defined sagittal crest.
The lack of cutting and puncturing premolars and molars means that cats, dogs, hyaenas and other very carnivorous large carnivores can be ruled out, narrowing down the likely options in the right size range to the bears, as recognised by palaeosam, Ric Morris, Robin Birrrdegg, Will Viscardi, cromercrox, cackhandedkate, Lena, Daniel Calleri, henstridgesj and Carlos.
The species is a bit more difficult to work out, but the big sagittal crest and fused sutures suggests that this is not an juvenile bear, meaning it’s too small for a bear of the Brown or Polar variety. That still leaves quite a range of other possible bears, but the pronounced forehead and long square muzzle rules out the Giant Panda, Sun Bear, Spectacled Bear and Asiatic Black Bear, while the big robust incisors rule out the Sloth Bear. That leaves the American Black Bear Ursus americanus Pallas, 1780.
Ursus americanus by Mike Bender/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 2008
So well done to cromercrox, Carlos and Robin Birdeggg who all got the species correct!
This week I have a nice skull for you to identify. Any idea what this is?
As usual you can leave your suggestions, questions and observations in the comments section below.
Have fun!
Last Friday I gave you this distinctive skull to identify:
I knew it would be a bit of an easy one, given the highly unusual teeth, but it seemed too interesting a specimen to not use.
As cryptically suggested by many of you (Jamie Revell, Nigel Monaghan, henstridgesj, rachel, cromercrox, Robin Birrrdegg, Allen Hazen and Crispin), this is indeed the skull of a Crabeater Seal Lobodon carcinophaga (Hombron & Jacquinot, 1842).
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These seals are specialised for catching krill, hence the strange shape and tightly fitting nature of their teeth, which act as a filter to strain the tiny crustaceans from ocean water.
Because these seals live in the waters all around the Antarctic, monitoring their population is particularly difficult, so estimates of their numbers vary considerably, from 2 million to 12 million (which is the more likely figure).
As with most abundant animals they have predators, in particular Leopard Seals. Apparently 78% of adult Crabeaters bear scars of Leopard Seal attacks, which can be seen clearly on the live individual in the image above. Most of the attacks happen before the Crabeaters reach a year old and get a bit too big to be easy prey, but in that first year there is apparently a huge mortality rate, with only 20% of seals making it to their first birthday. Good old Mother Nature is never one for sentiment.
This week I have a very distinctive skull for you to identify:
Because I expect some of you to work out what it is straight away, can you make your answer cryptic please, to give other people an opportunity to work it out.
I look forward seeing some cunning and clever hints at what this is!
Last Friday I gave you this skull to identify:
It was obvious to everyone who had a go at answering that it was the skull of a marine turtle of some sort, but that’s where it got a bit more tricky. There are only seven species of marine turtle, but their skulls all look quite similar to the untrained eye – mine included.
However, when I found this specimen I decided to improve my skills and I searched for a decent identification guide for turtle skulls, which I was fortunate to find hosted by Florida Atlantic University.
Checking through the characters I discovered that the palate of turtles can be very helpful in identifications, so here’s a colour coded and labelled diagram prepared from the image above that should help illustrate a key diagnostic feature:
As some of you may have noticed, the maxilla (tinted red) on either side of the palate meet in the middle, which is a characteristic only seen the Loggerhead Caretta caretta Rafinesque, 1814. The other turtles have the maxilla separated by the vomer (tinted green). Well done to mark b, cromercrox and donald who managed to get the right turtle species!
Loggerhead Turtle. Photo by ukanda, 2006
These large marine turtles will eat pretty much anything they can find, from jellyfish to crabs and sponges. Unfortunately that includes things like plastic, which causes all sort of problems for their digestive system. Just one problem that they face, on top of getting tangled up in fishing tackle and poor survival of their young due to predation from pretty much everything (from foxes to crabs and gulls to sharks). Sadly, it’s not much fun being a turtle.
This week I have an object that was in need of identification that I found in the collections. Any idea what this is?
As usual you can put your comments, thoughts and suggestions below. Enjoy!
Last Friday I was at the SPHNHC, NatSCA and GCG joint conference in Cardiff, which provided a fantastic opportunity to catch up with natural science curators, conservators and collections managers from all over the world, but which gave me limited time to spend on the mystery object.
As a result you ended up with an object that made an appearance in a ‘feely box’ at a fun pub quiz organised by guys at the Oxford Museum of Natural History.
Feely boxes in action
Lurking within…
It’s not the prettiest object but it’s characteristic shape and structure makes it readily identifiable using touch.
Jake spotted that it was a horizontal section through a skull, including the palate and Maxine and Julie Howard recognised the tusk alveoli extending from the maxilla, and correctly suggested Pumbaa, or Warthog Phacochoerus africanus (Gmelin, 1788).
Touch is an often under-appreciated sense in science, but it can be used to identify some specimens and provide a new perspective on the evolution of forms in nature. This is something I came to realise when working at the National Museum of Ireland – Natural History in Dublin, where I was fortunate enough to meet evolutionary biologist Dr Geerat Vermeij, who has been blind since birth, yet is able to identify shells to species and read part of their life history from touch alone.
Geerat Vermeij, Evolutionary Biologist, Reading A Shell’s Story from Shape of Life on Vimeo.
I don’t normally use my blog to publicise the event that I have coming up, because quite frankly I’m not usually that organised.
Doing a theatrical turn for the Enlightenment Cafe. Photo by Liz Lutgendorff 2012
Nonetheless, if you have the strange compunction to hear me speak, or to attend something I’ve helped organise, here are some gigs that are coming up soon (click the links for details):
July
August
That’ll do for now as details get more fuzzy as we look further into the future, but there are more talks coming up in in September, which I’ll add at a later date. Now I’d better think about getting some of these talks prepared!
I usually offer up a mystery object on Friday, but here’ a bonus object that landed on my desk this morning.
Apparently it was found in a horsefield in Kent, I have narrowed down the likely species of the animal that ‘donated’ the bone to a couple of options, but thought you might like to have a go as well, before the specimen is handed over to our Anthropologists to inspect the engraved designs.
As usual can can leave your comments below. Have fun!
This week I’ve been busy at a natural science collections conference in Cardiff, so I’ve not had much time to photograph a mystery object. Nonetheless, here’s one for you to identify that was used in a pub quiz at the conference:
Any idea what it is?
Zygoma 