Dinosaur Mysteries digs into the secretive side of the “terrible lizards” and all the questions that keep paleontologists up at night.
YOU NEVER KNOW how small you are until you’re next to a big ol’ dinosaur. Find the right lighting in the museum hall and you can literally stand in the shadow of the skeletons of Apatosaurus, Patagotitan, Brachiosaurus, and other reptiles that grew far larger than any other terrestrial creature in the past 66 million years. But even after nearly two centuries of research, we have only the haziest notions of why some dinosaurs were larger than any terrestrial mammal to date.
While a number of dinosaurs fell in the supersized category—Tyrannosaurus rex weighed more than a mature male African elephant—the sauropods were the all-time titleholders. They had small heads with simple teeth, impressively long necks, hefty bodies, and tapering tails. So many sauropod species reached more than 100 feet in length, paleontologists still aren’t sure which one stretched the farthest. While the largest land mammals, like the hornless rhino Paraceratherium and the biggest fossil elephants, got to be about 18 tons, sauropods evolved to have more mass at least 36 times during their evolutionary history—an ongoing reprisal of gargantuan herbivores through the Jurassic and Cretaceous.
The stunning heft of these creatures has often led us to wonder why they got to be so much bigger than any terrestrial creature before or since. But in the realm of paleontology, “why” questions are extremely difficult to answer. Queries starting with “why” are matters of history, and in this case, the history plays out dozens of times on multiple continents over the course of more than 130 million years. Though we see the end effect, we can’t quite make out the causes.
Dinosaurs have a habit of digging their claws into our imaginations, however, so researchers have kept on, turning up a few clues in the past two decades about the surfeit of superlative sauropods. While higher oxygen levels have been linked to bigger body sizes in a few ancient insects, the atmosphere in the heyday of the dinosaurs was about the same as today’s. What’s more, the Earth’s gravitational force was just as strong in the Mesozoic era as in the modern era. So we know that the impressive size of Argentinosaurus and other top sauropods was not a matter of an abiotic factor like increased oxygen in the atmosphere or lower gravity. Our explanation lies elsewhere.
Paleontologists are getting closer to the truth by looking at the dinosaurs themselves. For example, experts have identified a suite of characteristics that set sauropods apart from the mastodons and giant rhinos of the Cenozoic. Eggs have a great deal to do with it.
The largest mammals of all time were placentals, gestating their offspring on the inside so they could come out more developed. This reproductive strategy comes with some constraints. To reach even larger adult sizes, females of each species would need to carry their babies in the womb for longer. African elephants, for example, already gestate for about two years—during which much can go wrong. But sauropods, like all nonavian dinosaurs, laid multiple eggs at a time, bypassing the reproductive constraints of live birth and flooding their ecosystems with tons of babies that had the potential to grow huge (even if most ended up as snacks for the carnivores of the time). The different reproductive strategies gave dinosaurs some advantages over mammals.
Camarasaurus and other sauropods also got some assistance from their anatomical peculiarities. Sauropods had complex air-sac systems in their respiratory tracts that created air pockets within and around their bones. These nifty features kept their skeletons light without sacrificing strength, and also made extracting oxygen from the air and shedding excess body heat more efficient. The distinctive dinosaurs could grow long necks too, because they didn’t have heavy heads full of massive, grinding teeth like large herbivorous mammals over the past 66 million years. Instead, sauropods had small, light noggins full of spoon- or pencil-shaped teeth that were mostly just capable of cropping vegetation to be broken down and fermented through their gastrointestinal tracts. In other words, their guts did the work, not their teeth. Studies of ginkgoes, horsetails, and other common Mesozoic plants indicate that the ancient vegetation was more calorie-rich than previously supposed, so the abundance of green food likely fueled the reptilian giants’ unprecedented growth.
But these facts only show us what allowed sauropods to become big. The dinosaurs didn’t have to drift in that direction. In fact, some were relatively small: The island-dwelling species Magyarosaurus was about the size of a large cow. Sauropods could have thrived at smaller sizes, but they instead kept spinning off lineages of giants. We know something about what made living large possible, but what we still don’t know is what evolutionary pressures drove sauropods to evolve enormous bodies.
Predators certainly played their part. All sauropods were born small—even the largest species hatched from eggs about the size of a soccer ball. They were vulnerable to various Jurassic and Cretaceous carnivores, but growing up quickly was one way to stave off those hungry jaws. Hunting megafauna can be dangerous and even deadly, as we see with lions, wolves, and even humans today, and so sauropods may have plumped up to be less appealing to the likes of Allosaurus and T. rex.
But if carnivorous appetites were the main driver of sauropod size, we’d see a more uniform and extended “arms race” between the dinosaurs over time, resulting in gradually larger predators and prey. The fossil record instead shows that sauropods scaled up in different times and places, likely for an array of reasons ranging from local grub to what mating sauropods found sexy in each other. The repeated evolution of gigantic dinosaurs hints that there were many pathways to the sauropods’ impressive stature, not just one. Biology was as complicated back then as it is now, and we’ll never get the full story without experiencing 100-foot-long reptiles ourselves.
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