This week I have a fragment of a toothy object for you to identify:
Any idea what species this fearsome looking row of teeth might have come from?
You can put your thoughts, questions and suggestions below. Have fun working it out!
A very Happy New Year to everyone!
Last week (and indeed last year) I gave you this box of bones and one non-bony object, dug up on the Isle of Sheppey to identify:
Everyone correctly spotted that the bones were canid (and by everyone I mean Ric Morris, witcharachne, Jake, Paleotool, Allen Hazen and Sam Misan), either Dog or possibly Fox, as suggested by Sam Misan.
The length of the bones would fit both Dog and Fox, but they’re a bit too robust for Fox – here’s a comparison of a radius from the box and a Fox:
So we have a Dog in the box, but the non-bony object has posed more of a challenge:
The initial thought was that it might be a musket ball, but it’s rather on the big side for that – more like a small cannon ball or piece of grapeshot.
The material its made of may provide a clue as to what it is. It’s not magnetic and there’s no red coloured oxidisation on the surface, so it’s not iron. It doesn’t have any casting marks, it’s too hard to be lead and although it’s dense, it doesn’t seem to be metal.
To my mind it seems likely to be a naturally formed mineral concretion. It could be a phosphatic nodule, pyrite or marcasite (they contain iron, but they’re not magnetic) or maybe a quartz mineral, like flint (which is what I’m leaning towards).
This may be naturally occurring in the area, but if the materials were collected together it seems likely that the ball had been used by someone for something. The possibility I’m inclined to go for is as ammunition for a sling.
All a bit speculative I’m afraid, but that’s how the game sometimes works out. Thanks to everyone for your input!
Seasons greetings! Since it’s Boxing Day, I thought it would be appropriate to give you a box of bones from an archaeological dig to have a go at identifying:
Here are a couple of detailed images of some of the bones to help you:
And here is a detail of the non-bony object that’s associated:
You can put your questions, observations and suggestions in the comments box below and maybe we can work out what’s been dug up!
Last Friday I gave you this object, that I’ve been working on, to identify:
Ric Morris was straight in with the nicely disguised correct answer of occipital bone viewed from the basal aspect, correctly suggesting something bovine as the source.
This is the kind of object that you often come across from archaeological sites, where material may have been dug up from a butchery site, kitchen midden or similar assemblage.
Fragmentary bits can be quite hard to identify compared to complete skulls, but when you get a fairly complete chunk like this it makes things a bit more straightforward. In particular the hole of the foramen magnum and bordering occipital condyles provide a clear indication of where in the body it comes from. The shape and size of the condyles also helps narrow down the species.
Expect some more burnt and broken bits of bone in future mystery objects!
Recently I’ve been working through boxes of mixed archaeological bone and bone fragments. So here’s one of the objects I had to identify as part of that process:
Any idea what it might be?
As usual you can put your observations, suggestions and questions in the comments box below. If you find it easy, please try to use a cryptic clue so other people get a chance to get involved. Have fun!
Last Friday I gave you this characteristic skull to identify:
Many of you recognised that this is the skull of a Hornbill, and Martin Edvardsson, ClareP, Jamie Revell, paleomanuel, witcharachne, marcuschua all managed to identify it as a Great Hornbill Buceros bicornis Linnaeus, 1758.
You may be surprised to know that this specimen was originally misidentified as a Black-and-white-casqued Hornbill Bycanistes subcylindricus (Sclater, 1870) by the taxidermists who prepared it – quite a basic error for a natural history professional!
The Great Hornbill is a large Asian bird that feeds on fruit and any small critters that end up at the wrong end of that impressive bill – from insects to owls. Their distinctive black and white plumage is used by a lot of native people in Southeast Asia in costume, leading to pressure on the bird’s population due to hunting.
Great Hornbills have a somewhat odd system for breeding, with the female walling herself up inside a hole in a tree using faeces, and the male delivering food to her and the chicks through a narrow hole. It works for Great Hornbills…
After the last mystery object, which was really difficult, I have an easier one for you to identify:
Apologies for the rather odd-looking set of images – the specimen proved quite hard to get level for photography.
As usual for easy objects, please try to be a bit discrete with your answer so everyone gets a chance to test their identification skills. I look forward to some interesting answers!
Last Friday I gave you a really difficult mystery object to identify, in the form of this mysterious caramel-brown lump:
It turns out that for the first time in ages, nobody managed to get the right identification, although there were a lot of great suggestions ranging from “headless, legless rubber chicken. Which has been burned in a fire some great time ago” by Matt H., to a hyperostotic fish spine, which Jake and henstridgesj had in mind.
This lump is in fact a dentine nodule from inside the tusk of an African Elephant Loxodonta africana (Blumenbach, 1797).
These sorts of internal growths form when a tusk gets damaged and the pulp inside becomes infected. New dentine is laid down in response to the infection, walling off the affected tissue and preventing the further spread of bacteria.
These growths come in a variety of forms – none of which look much like ivory. Here’s a selection to give you an idea:
So the next time you find something that looks like a burnt rubber chicken, or an overly firm bit of ginger, you may want to check to make sure it’s not ivory.
Last Friday I gave you this creepy clown doll made of bone to identify:
There were some great cryptic responses from yogicbear, Claire Miles, Jake, henstridgesj, Daniel Calleri, Robin Birrrdegg and Anne Åslaug Holder identifying that it’s been made from a wishbone, with the unfortunate donor being a Chicken Gallus gallus domesticus (Linnaeus, 1758).
The wishbone is somewhat larger and better formed than the usual one you’ll find in a modern chicken, since modern birds tend to be eaten when they’re much younger than this bird would have been. It came to the Horniman in 1923, donated by English folklorist Edward Lovett.
The second part of last week’s mystery was this sound provided by Cheryl Tipp, curator of the British Library Wildlife Sound Archive:
Again, there were some brilliant cryptic answers to the sound, with an anagram from Claire Miles and two lovely pieces of verse relating to the animal provided by Harry. It is of course the characteristic creaking call of the Corncrake Crex crex (Linnaeus, 1758).
So a big congratulations to everyone who took part – that’ll be the last of the sounds for the time being, next week I’ll have to think about some more specimens to pose a challenge!
Since it’s Halloween I thought it might be appropriate to have something a bit creepy to identify – and what’s more creepy than clowns? Apart from maybe dolls. So here’s a clown doll:
Any idea what this creepy little object is made from?
While you’re pondering on that you may want to also have a think about what this eerie noise from the British Library Wildlife Sound Archive is made by:
…and it’s not the sound of a tiny wild clown chasing sheep in the dead of night.
Probably.
Last Friday I gave you this sound and skull combination to have a go at identifying:
As many of you worked out, the skull and call belong to quite different species that share a love of the seaside.
The call belongs to the somewhat enigmatic Common Eider Somateria mollissima (Linnaeus, 1758) as identified by mark b, Chris, Melanie, Henry McGhie, Anne Åslaug Holder and stuart petch.
A male Somateria mollissima (Common Eider) at the London Wetland Centre, Barnes, UK. By Diliff, 2013
These large marine ducks are at home on the water, where they feed on molluscs and crustaceans. They are probably best known for their super-soft downy breast feathers, that the females use to line their nests and humans use to fill their pillows.
The skull belongs to a Razorbill Alca torda Linnaeus, 1758, as identified by Ric Morris, mark b, Chris, Melanie, Henry McGhie, Anne Åslaug Holder and stuart petch.
These birds are great divers, using their wings to ‘fly’ underwater. They feed on small fish and other slippery critters, caught using that characteristic bill.
Congratulations to everyone who managed to work out what the two species were – there’ll be a final mystery sound from the British Library Wildlife Sound Archive to identify next week, courtesy of curator Cheryl Tipp!
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.
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).
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.
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).
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?
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.
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!