Snakes in a Burrow: Fossil Rattles Origin of Snakes

Last week, paleontologists published a study in the journal Science Advances revealing a possible habitat origin for modern snakes. This study was based on an exciting morphological discovery in a fossil snake that could help scientists understand why snakes developed limbless bodies and distinct sensory systems.

The habitat of ancestral snakes has been debated between several studies, pointing to either aquatic or terrestrial origins. Studying the habitat of fossil snakes is limited to inference based on qualitative morphological analyses of the fossils themselves, or by interpretation of the depositional environment of the fossil, which can be problematic if the fossils were potentially displaced post-death.

This new study, led by Hongyu Yi from the University of Edinburgh and Mark A. Norell from the American Museum of Natural History, produced a quantitative morphological analysis examining the inner ear across all lineages of snakes, including the Cretaceous snake Dinilysia patagonica, found in South American deposits. Yi and Norell concluded from their study that D. patagonica was a burrower, and that ancestral snakes likely occupied a fossorial (burrowing) ecological niche.

What does the inner ear have to do with burrowing? And how did Yi and Norell determine that D. patagonica was burrowing?

The inner ear is responsible for hearing and balance in all snakes. And sound waves are slowed down when they are moving through a soft, dense material like dirt. So obviously, animals like us humans don’t hear very well when buried because our ears haven’t evolved to detect sound waves or vibrations through dirt.

Loxocemus bicolor, the Mexican burrowing python. Image courtesy Wikipedia.
Loxocemus bicolor, the Mexican burrowing python. Image courtesy Wikipedia.

Modern burrowing snakes, such as the Mexican burrowing python (Loxocemus bicolor) or the sunbeam snake (Xenopeltis), have a distinct morphology of the inner ear that allows heightened senses underground. The inner ear is composed of a spherical vestibule, foramen ovale, and semicircular canals. In burrowing snakes, the spherical vestibule is massive compared to terrestrial and aquatic snakes, and contains a large sacular otolith (“ear stone”), that helps the brain interpret substrate vibrations. The larger the otoliths in the vestibule, the more sensitive the snake is to ground vibrations with low frequencies. These otoliths also help orient the snake and make them sensitive to angular rotations while impeding high speeds.

Yi and Norell examined x-ray computed tomography (CT) scans of 34 species of modern and fossils snakes, as well as 10 species of lizards and worm lizards (amphisbaenians), a group of limbless squamates not closely related to snakes. Using these scans, they built 3-D virtual models of the endocast of the bony inner ear labyrinth. Their results show that D. patagonica shares a inner ear morphology with modern burrowing snakes, with a large spherical vestibule that occupies most of the space delineated by the shape of the semicircular canals. They also interpreted a cast of a large sacular otolith, suggesting that these snakes were actively burrowing and sensing lower frequency vibrations associated with burrowing in a substrate.

The braincase and inner ear of D. patagonica (MACN-RN 1014). (A) Braincase of D. patagonica, showing the right otic region in lateral view. (B) X-ray CT model of MACN-RN 1014, with the inner ear highlighted in blue. (C) Bony inner ear of D. patagonica. FO, foramen ovale; LR, lagenar recess; SC, semicircular canal; V, vestibule. Scale bars, 5 mm.
The braincase and inner ear of D. patagonica (MACN-RN 1014). (A) Braincase of D. patagonica, showing the right otic region in lateral view. (B) X-ray CT model of MACN-RN 1014, with the inner ear highlighted in blue. (C) Bony inner ear of D. patagonica. FO, foramen ovale; LR, lagenar recess; SC, semicircular canal; V, vestibule. Scale bars, 5 mm.

In several recent studies hypothesizing the evolutionary relationships of snakes and other squamates, Dinilysia patagonica is recovered either as the sister taxon to all crown-group snakes or in a basal position within crown-group snakes. This is a critical position in helping determine the habitat origin of modern snakes. Using predictive models for snake habitat based on vestibular shape, Yi and Norell estimated a high probability (93.4%) that D. patagonica was a burrower, and also recovered a high probability (70.1%) that the hypothetical ancestor of snakes was also burrower and a low probability (0.02%) that the hypothetical ancestor was aquatic. Even removing D. patagonica from their analysis, they recovered the same results with high probability of a burrowing common ancestor.

Modern snakes originated as burrowers, based on their inner ear morphology. (A) Snake skulls in right lateral view, showing that the inner ear (orange) locates inside the braincase and opens to the stapes (blue) in the middle ear. Ear and skull models are not to scale. (B) Inner ear of Laticauda colubrina, an aquatic species. (C) Ptyas mucosa, terrestrial generalist. (D) Xenopeltis unicolor, a burrowing species. (E) Hypothetical ancestor of crown snakes, predicted as burrowing with 70.1% probability. (F) D. patagonica, predicted as burrowing with 93.4% probability. (G) Phylogeny of all snakes and lizards in this study, adapted from Gauthier et al., Pyron et al., and Yi and Norell.
Modern snakes originated as burrowers, based on their inner ear morphology. (A) Snake skulls in right lateral view, showing that the inner ear (orange) locates inside the braincase and opens to the stapes (blue) in the middle ear. Ear and skull models are not to scale. (B) Inner ear of Laticauda colubrina, an aquatic species. (C) Ptyas mucosa, terrestrial generalist. (D) Xenopeltis unicolor, a burrowing species. (E) Hypothetical ancestor of crown snakes, predicted as burrowing with 70.1% probability. (F) D. patagonica, predicted as burrowing with 93.4% probability. (G) Phylogeny of all snakes and lizards in this study, adapted from Gauthier et al., Pyron et al., and Yi and Norell.

Dinilysia patagonica is the largest known burrowing snake, with a snout-to-tail length greater than 1.8 meters (5.9 feet). The largest modern burrowing snakes approach 1.6 meters (5.25 feet). D. patagonica likely foraged for buried eggs or other reptiles, similar to modern burrowing snakes, or even likely hunted small vertebrates aboveground. More importantly, a burrowing habitat has large implications on the loss of limbs, more likely to aid in movement through the substrate than for swimming. This study also suggests that ancestral snakes were able to use substrate vibrations to detect movement of prey as well as to avoid predators.

Read the original article here:

Yi H, Norell MA (2015) The burrowing origin of modern snakes. Science Advances 1, e1500743. DOI: 10.1126/sciadv.1500743 

References:

Gauthier JA, Kearney M, Maisano JA, Rieppel O, Behlke ADB (2012) Assembling the squamate tree of life: Perspectives from the phenotype and the fossil record. Bull. Peabody Mus. Nat. Hist. 53, 3–308.

Pyron RA, Burbrink FT , Wiens JJ (2013) A phylogeny and revised classification of Squamata, including 4161 species of lizards and snakes. BMC Evol. Biol. 13, 93.

Yi H, Norell MA, New materials of Estesia mongoliensis (Squamata: Anguimorpha) and the evolution of venom grooves in lizards. Am. Mus. Novit. 3767, 1–31.

 

 

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Lungfishes Are Not Airheads!

It’s November, a month to ruminate on all of the things we are thankful for while we ruminate copious amounts of food (at least in the United States). I’ve been contemplating all of the things that I am thankful for, besides the usual suspects (you know, friends, family, a pretty cool research project, and, of course, the PLOS Paleo Community!).

You know what else I am thankful for? I’m thankful for lungfishes.

Lungfishes are pretty spectacular organisms, and also utterly bizarre. In fact, our knowledge of extant lungfishes, their biology, and their evolutionary relationships to other fishes or tetrapods was confusing at first. The South American lungfish, Lepidosiren paradoxa, got its specific name due to its mosaic of fish and tetrapod characteristics, and was thought to have been a reptile when it was described in 1836. The West African Lungfish, Protopterus annectans, was thought to be an amphibian when it was described in 1837. These critters confused a lot of taxonomists for a lot of years, but eventually it was realized that they belonged within Dipnoi, the lungfishes, a group within Sarcopterygii (a group that includes coelacanths and, well, ourselves!). Now, almost all morphological and molecular phylogenetic studies accept that lungfishes are more closely related to tetrapods than coelacanths are to tetrapods.

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Not exactly the great-great-grandma you were expecting for Thanksgiving Dinner. Photo by Sarah Gibson.

Lungfishes have a massive evolutionary history, with their peak diversity of around 100 species occurring around 359–420 million years ago during the Devonian Period. Nowadays, their family get-togethers are a little smaller, with just six living species occurring in South America (Lepidosiren), Africa (Protopterus), and Australia (Neoceratodus). These two groups are thought to have diverged sometime during the Permian (~277 Ma), and when you’ve been away from your relatives for that long, it can be expected that you’ll become quite different. While both have thick bodies with broad tails and distinguishing toothplates used for crushing prey, notable external differences include the filamentous “noodle” pectoral and pelvic fins of the Lepidosirenidae compared to the thicker, paddle-like fins of Neoceratodus.

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An African Lungfish with his wimpy noodle arms. Photo by Sarah Gibson.

There’s a lot we still don’t know about the closest-living relatives of all tetrapods. A paper that came out last month in PLOS ONE by Alice M. Clement, Johan Nysjö, Robin Strand, and Per E. Ahlberg set out to study one such aspect of lungfishes: the brain/cranial endocast relationship.

When lacking soft tissue, as with most fossils, paleontologists use the size of the cranial cavity (the endocast) to elucidate the size of the brain, which obviously can help us infer the relative intelligence or cognition of the organism when comparing the size of the brain to the size of the organism itself. This can be problematic though, depending on what group you are studying. Clement et al. (2015) note that the brain-endocast relationship of tetrapods (birds, reptiles, mammals, etc.) is more tightly constrained that what is observed in some fishes. For example, some living chondrichthyans, such as the basking shark Cetorhinus, can have a brain size that occupies only around 6% of the endocranial cavity. Even stranger still is the living coelacanth Latimeria, who’s brain occupies a tiny 1% of the endocranial cavity. On the flipside, Clement et al. (2015) notes, ray-finned fishes can have a close match in brain size to endocast size. This variability in brain-to-endocast relationship is unusual, and one that author Clement told me can only be understood by expanding datasets and the taxa for which we know the brain-endocranial relationship, something that she and her colleagues are continuing to work on.

Where do lungfishes fit in this brain-endocast relationship spectrum? Clement et al. (2015) used specimens of the Australian lungfish Neoceratodus fosteri to examine this relationship. Using high-resolution X-ray Computed Tomography (CT) scanning techniques and computer analyses outlined in detail in the paper, Clement and colleagues examined in detail the size, anatomy, and morphology of the brain of Neoceratodus.

X-ray microtomographic images of iodine-treated Neoceratodus forsteri (ANU 73578).A-F in transverse view moving posteriorly; G, 3D rendering of whole specimen in left lateral view; and H, diagram showing position of slices A-F.
X-ray microtomographic images of iodine-treated Neoceratodus forsteri (ANU 73578).A-F in transverse view moving posteriorly; G, 3D rendering of whole specimen in left lateral view; and H, diagram showing position of slices A-F. From Clement et al. (2015)

They concluded that brain fits the endocast pretty closely, particularly in the forebrain and labyrinth (inner ear) regions. The paper diagrams beautifully the relationship of brain-to-endocast spatial relationship.

Brain-endocast spatial relationship in Neoceratodus, left lateral view.A, brain; B, endocast; C, overlay; D, distance map; and E, distance map. Warmest colors indicate greatest distance.
Brain-endocast spatial relationship in Neoceratodus, left lateral view. A, brain; B, endocast; C, overlay; D, distance map; and E, distance map. Warmest colors indicate greatest distance. From Clement et al. (2015)

A PLOS ONE paper from last year by two of the authors here (Clement and Ahlberg, 2014) examined the endocast of a fossil lungfish Rhinodipterus from the Devonian Gogo Formation of Australia, and found similarity between it and the brain of Neoceratodus. Some general inferences about the functional significance of different sections of the brain can be made. Clement and Ahlberg (2014) note that the enlarging of the telencephalic region of lungfishes over time (between Devonian Rhinodipterus and the extant Neoceratodus) is probably related to  increased reliance upon this part of the brain.

“The forebrain is associated with olfaction; perhaps as lungfishes moved from open marine environments in the Devonian to murkier, freshwater, swamp-like environments (like we see them in today), their reliance on smell increased,” Clement told me. She continues, “Similarly, the midbrain (where the optic lobes are) is greatly reduced in lungfishes, suggesting that they don’t rely on sight very much, compared to most actinopterygian fishes.”

The work by Clement and colleagues has implications beyond lungfish anatomy. Clement et al. (2015) clearly demonstrates the care that paleontologists, specifically paleoneurologists, should use when studying the cranial endocasts of fossil taxa. Clement notes, “I think we must always use caution when interpreting the endocasts of fossils in terms of gross brain morphology, as we can’t know the brain-endocranial relationship in [extinct] taxa. However, the fact remains that no brain region can be larger than the endocranial cavity that housed it, so we are given maximal proportions at least.”

Clement further states, “Endocasts themselves are often highly rich in morphological characters (whether related to the brain inside them or not) useful for comparative, and probably also phylogenetic, analyses across taxa. In my opinion, the great advances in scanning technology mean  that virtual palaeoneurology is on the cusp of a boom!”

1. Clement AM, Nysjö J, Strand R, Ahlberg PE (2015) Brain – endocast relationship in the Australian lungfish, Neoceratodus forsteri, elucidated from tomographic data. (Sarcopterygii: Dipnoi). PLOS One 10(10):e0141277. doi:10.1371/ journal.pone.0141277

2. Clement AM and Ahlberg, PE (2014) The first virtual cranial endocast of a lungfish (Sarcopterygii: Dipnoi). PLOS ONE 9(11): e113898. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0113898

(Featured image is of the Australian Lungfish “Granddad” on display at the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. Photo by Sarah Gibson.)