I publish this poem every year. Whatever your faith or views, this poem has sentiments everyone can embrace.
Sunday, December 31, 2023
A Prayer for 2024 courtesy of Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Saturday, December 30, 2023
An Amazing Novel of Octopuses, Intelligence, and Humanity
Ray Nayler
MCD (Farrar,
Strauss, and Giroux), 2022. 452pp.
Nayler, an
author of acclaimed short fiction, delivers a first novel that’s original,
superbly written, and profound, showing extensive research and a fearless
approach to the largest of themes – consciousness, sentience, and life.
We’re in a world
set just far enough in the future for the creation of Evrim, the world’s first and
only sentient android (such creations were immediately outlawed). The world has
been reshaped by wars but remains functional, with greater roles for
international authorities (governmental and corporate) plus a powerful cyber
empire based in Tibet. Transport is largely AI-driven, and advanced drones and
other gadgets are ubiquitous. Nayler chillingly depicts life on an AI-driven fishing
vessel where the crew are slaves, never setting foot ashore and unable to
communicate. On one such ship, fisherman Eiko learns from his Vietnamese friend
Son the legend of a shapeshifting sea monster at the Con Dao Archipelago. This
is where Dr. Ha Nyguen has just been hired to investigate what may be a
sentient octopus species. Nayler's characters talk through the factors that have kept octopi
from having a civilization: short lives, no parent-child bond, and lack of
symbolic communication. The author repeatedly and effectively shows how hard it
may be for humans to understand the thinking of any alien species, as theory
after theory goes bust.
With Ha on
the remote atoll are only Evrim and Altantseteg, the enigmatic guard who
commands an array of automated defenses. Also in the cast are Ha’s long
distance friend Kamran, the cybergenius Rustem, the DIANIMA corporation’s
scientist Arnkatia Minervudotter-Chan, and a mysterious woman hidden by an AI facemask
who ruthlessly manipulates people for DIANIMA’s benefit. Nayler introduces the “point
five,” an AI companion (it and a human together make one point five) sophisticated enough to have discussions and arguments, and
pass almost any Turing test, and we’re not always sure who is actually human. One of Nayler’s fascinating explorations concerns
what tips the scale to sentience: why Evrim is an autonomous intelligent being
and other constructs, cyber or physical, are not. What, he asks, is the ultimate Turing test?
The octopuses
are not what you’d expect. They are trying to understand us, as Ha and Evrim
try to understand them. There are echoes here of other interesting works: Star
Trek TNG (although the gap between android and human is greater than Data showed
us), Alien, and the film A Cold Night’s Death are a few. The various
stories collide, literally, at a point where we find out what’s really happening
on the island, who’s in charge, and key characters’ real motivations, all of
which come as revelations.
This isn’t a
novel you can read casually. Nayler’s prose is inventive and highly effective without
ever becoming flowery. Every paragraph is there for a reason, and the reader
needs to pay attention. The technical and philosophical details are well thought
out and often provocative. Excerpts from the books of Drs. Nyguen and Minervudotter-Chan
give essential insights into the characters’ thinking as well as their world. The
result is a masterpiece of suspenseful and thoughtful storytelling.
My last thought
is that Nayler needs to keep tight control when this book is optioned for a film.
A studio’s first instinct will be to make it a monster movie, which is like
making Moby Dick an Ahab-vs-whale contest while ignoring the many layers
that make the tale profound and unique. I wish him luck.
Wednesday, December 13, 2023
Review: Darren Naish Gives us the Best Book on Marine Reptiles
Ancient SeaReptiles: Plesiosaurs, Ichthyosaurs, Mosasaurs, and More
by Darren
Naish
Smithsonian
Books, 2023. 192 pages
My go-to book
on marine reptiles used to be Richard Ellis’s Sea Dragons: Predators of the
Prehistoric Oceans (2003), which is highly readable but long since obsolete
thanks to a raft of new fossils and analytical techniques. Ancient Sea
Reptiles, which reflects the latest information in text and diagrams while
remaining readable, is my new one.
An excellent Introduction sets up our voyage into the Mesozoic. Dr. Naish explains land masses, climate, temperatures (until recently no one was sure whether marine reptiles braved cold seas), and a capsule history of discoveries by naturalists and paleontologists. The first ichthyosaurs, mosasaurs, and plesiosaurs came out of Europe in 18th and 19th centuries. Speaking of Europe, Naish zaps the myth Many Anning was ever obscure or forgotten, even if she didn’t always get proper credit. More discoveries came out of North America, although Edward Drinker Cope in 1869 delayed proper study of his stunning Elasmosaurus by mistaking the neck for the tail and putting the skull on the wrong end. More mosasaurs and plesiosaurs also came out of North America, supplemented in modern times by marine reptile finds all over the world: from Australia, Morocco, China, and many other places.
Diving into evolution,
Naish straightens out the convoluted mess of theories, family trees, and
cladograms. These lead to the predominant modern hypothesis, that all the
marine reptiles form a superclade descended from a common ancestor. That
ancestor may resemble Womengosaurus, 255 million years old. The evolution
within the clade was complex. With nearly 200 million years of changing
conditions and evolutionary pressures, bodies responded in all kinds of
different ways. Not only did the same body plans appear (and reappear) from
different reptilian lineages, but similar body plans were shared among
creatures as different as ichthyosaurs, cetaceans, and fishes.
Each of the
major groups gets a chapter, but the “and More” in the title is very important.
Most readers will have at least a general idea of the three largest groups,
even if their relationships are very complex.
Naish shows us in Chapter 4 the marine reptiles were much more diverse
than is generally known, not to mention weirder. Mesosaurs, a bit crocodilian to our eyes,
prowled the shallows and ventured on land. Placodonts looked like bony, husky,
broad-bodied marine lizards. The platyochelids looked like bizarre turtles with
shells of heavy scales: I was remined of a swimming waffle iron. Nothosaurs had
long, shallow skulls, a bit alligatorish. Then there’s Tanystropheus, with a
neck as long as the body and tail put together. It appears to have been an
amphibious shoreline ambusher that picked off fish in the shallows. There are
many more groups. Above the Mesozoic oceans soared pterosaurs and, eventually,
seabirds. There were sea snakes, too, some with tiny hind limbs.
The
ichthyosaurs looked the most like modern fishers or cetaceans. They were around
more than 100 million years from the 1-meter (m) types of the early Triassic to
the amazing shastosaurs, which reached 21 m and probably longer. They split
into many groups and evolved countless variations. The Suevoleviathan had unusually
large front fins and a gigantic tuna-like tail. Some had enormous eyes
indicating they, like some modern cetaceans, didn’t let the need for oxygen
keep them from diving deep to hunt fish and squid.
The
plesiosaurs might be the most famous group of all. They are classically
described as looking like “a snake threaded through the body of a turtle.”
Naish notes the media stars are the elasmosaurs, with their extremely long
necks, but necks and skulls came in all lengths and thicknesses. (He also notes
they did NOT produce the alleged Loch Ness monster.) For 130 million years, the plesiosaurs evolved,
differentiated, and even produced the pliosaurids, which had massive heads and short
(sometimes almost absent) necks. There was also the giant Liopleurodon, once
estimated at 25 m but really well under half that (still a giant!) Kronosaurus was another large and relatively
famous species (among the types resurrected, with gills in the novels of Max
Hawthorne), and up to 11 m long. Leptocleidids were smaller types inhabiting
estuaries and lakes, filling niches many modern seals occupy: indeed, some look
considerably like four-flippered seals.
Naish spends
some time on the interesting and still disputed topic of just how these
creatures swam. Were they underwater flyers, like penguins? Rowers? It now
looks more complex, with precisely synchronized fore and hind paddle movements
for top efficiency.
The thalattosuchians
were the ocean-going crocodylomorphs, though unrelated to modern crocodiles. The
teleosaurids came first, starting with predators of the shallows and moving
into the oceans, while the later-developing metriorhynchids were pure
ocean-going animals with smooth skins.
The mosasaurs
were unique in being, literally, huge seagoing lizards. Naish says they can be
thought of as “whale-lizards,” albeit scaly-skinned, driven by their shark-like
tails. While the discovery of a soft-shelled egg 29cm long, which made headlines
in 2020, led to speculations mosasaurs laid eggs, the evidence is strong that
they bore live young (exactly what laid that egg is still a mystery). One
branch, the tylosaurines, produced giants 14 meters long. Here again underwater
flight has been suggested, at least for the long-limbed and deep-chested Plioplatecarpus.
In this case, too, the idea has been largely dismissed. Mosasaurus itself might
have grown as long as 18 m, although the Jurassic Park films make it the
size of a small U-boat.
Finally, we
have the sea turtles. On group, the protostegids, which may not have been
turtles at all, is extinct. This is unfortunate, since it produced the spectacular
Archelon, from North America, 4.6 m long and with a sharp parrot-like beak and a
cover of skin and/or scales over a full ribcage, unlike modern turtles where
ribs and carapace are fused. The others
are the hard-shelled turtles, relatives of those still with us today, and the
leatherbacks, which swam pretty much unconcernedly through the K-Pg event and
everything since. The only real enemies of the jellyfish-loving adults,
decimating their ranks today, are plastic bags.
The
illustrations are superb throughout. The book offers a plethora of photographed
fossils, artwork, and line drawings which connect us to the creatures being
discussed and to the technical topics like the importance of salt glands. The
diagrams of evolutionary relationships are equally helpful.
It’s not a
perfect book. While
Naish gives many sources in text, there are no footnotes, endnotes, or other citations
and only a token bibliography. This Smithsonian series doesn’t have citations
in general, and Nasih himself doesn’t consider them critical for a popular
book, but I’m a fan of them: I love the way books by people like Ellis and
Susan Casey (and, for that matter, me) give us many pages of things to look up
as curiosity dictates. Finally, the book just ends. There are two lines on the
future of the oceans at the end of the turtle chapter, and it just stops. Naish
had more material he could not incorporate, but even a short summary of this
broad topic we’ve just covered would make it feel more complete.
The marine reptiles, then, were a group of astonishing numbers, variations, and sizes. Naish has given us the best guide in print to these creatures and their world. An exciting aspect, threaded throughout the book, is that discoveries, theories, and analysis of these animals is progressing faster than ever before. Naish may have to revise this superb book in ten years or so.
Saturday, December 09, 2023
Following the work of Sharon Hill
Sharon Hill, geologist, science writer, skeptic, and reporter on cryptozoology, natural phenomena, and paranormal claims, is a very important resource for those of us who follow those topics. She has been on several platforms which either proved unsatisfactory or became so, so she is consolidating.
Her Substack will go away and everything will be on her website at Sharon A. Hill - Strange Claims Adjuster (sharonahill.com) She also posts on Mastodon.
This includes her old Spooky Geology site and her Modern Cryptozoology blog.
Good luck, Sharon!
Sharon A. Hill
Independent researcher, Geologist, author, and science communicator with 25+ years of research and writing about anomalous natural phenomena, paranormal beliefs in society, paranormal popular culture, pseudoscience, science and society, cryptozoology, Forteana, and geologic topics.
Author of Scientifical Americans (McFarland, 2017)
Thursday, December 07, 2023
The most puzzling of "Sea Serpents"
Saturday, December 02, 2023
Book Review: Susan Casey Takes us to the Deeps in The Underworld
The Underworld: Journeys to the Depths of the Oceans
Doubleday: 2023, 352pp.
Susan Casey's new book is her best work: her best writing, her most fascinating topic, and the best blending of her personal adventures and the larger picture of the natural world and the people who explore it. To be honest, I’ve also never been as envious of the adventures she undertakes or manages, by excellent networking, to get invitations to.
The author threads information and stories on geology, hydrothermal vents, seaquakes, and life of every kind, from whales to bacteria, all through her narrative. She sails on the RV Atlantis with the famed ROV Jason, doing shifts as a data logger while the ROV sends back stunning images, and tours the world’s most famous submersible, Alvin. She includes many tales of disaster and near-disaster for the aquanauts. Everyone she meets reminds her that this is an environment that, while bearing life in unprecedented variety, is as hospitable to humans as deep space.
Casey introduces
us to the legends of marine exploration, Don Walsh and Her Deepness, Sylvia Earle,
along with a dozen or so lesser-known people who deserve to share the spotlight. (Walsh just died at
92, literally while I was reading this book.)
The real highlight for the reader is Casey’s own experience as a submersible passenger. I’m not sure ocean life can be described more evocatively than Casey does it on her two dives. The first is a test dive of the Neptune to a thousand meters off the Bahamas. Neptune was one of the submersibles supporting creator/funder Victor Vescovo’s Five Deeps effort (diving to the deepest point in each ocean, doing science along the way). She is fascinated by the luminescent jellies... “a blazing purple ring with flowing white tentacles…a gold crown that throbbed like a heart...a child’s drawing of the sun.” When they turn off all lights, “It was as though we were in the center of a meteor shower, streaks and bursts and aureoles of light bejeweling the darkness to the far edges of our vision…” For someone whose breakthrough book was about great white sharks, Casey clearly appreciates amazing life of all kinds. She even gets to drive a little. “You’re doing great,” the pilot says. “I think you’re going backwards, though.”
Casey later gets to
do a much deeper dive, to Kamaʻehuakanaloa Seamount (aka Lōʻihi) in the Hawaiian
Islands on a trip with Vescovo himself to free a stuck lander. Five thousand
meters down, Casey tries hard to describe the sensations of being embraced, enthralled,
and awed by the scenery. “You don’t glimpse the mystery, you enter it.” Vescovo,
among many other accomplishments, mentions filming a snailfish at 6,890m, then
a record for finding a living fish. (The record as of this writing is a
snailfish at 8,336 m.)
Casey does a
great job of describing shipboard and submersible conditions and the work
needed to launch, operate, and recover submersibles, ROVs, and fixed-site
landers. Much of this hardware is aimed
at hydrothermal vents, whose 1977 discovery shocked everyone: It was, Casey
writes, “A Star Wars bar ecosystem bar scene ecosystem that flouted all of our
rules.”
She does
almost as well with descriptions of the undersea environment and underlying
science. If she can get a little cutesy (morphing mantle rock… “throws off
heat, hydrogen, and methane in a kind of planetary hissy fit”), the complex grandeur of the topic demands the reader let her get away with it.
Casey includes detours to other fascinating topics, including more museums and the search for the world’s most valuable treasure ship, the San Jose’, finally located but “reburied” under intense legal disputes. She explores the fraught question of mining the deep sea for manganese nodules and does not have much trouble making the case that, however greenwashed such projects may be, they are a terrible idea.
For my fellow
fans of unrecognized species, Casey covers William Beebe’s claims of seeing
spectacular deep-sea fish that, she notes, no one has observed since. To be charitable to Beebe, the vivid way Casey
describes the self-illuminating life seen on her submersible dives, it's easy
to imagine Beebe, squinting through a thick quartz window with inadequate
illumination, thinking multiple animals or chained invertebrates were part of a
large, illuminated fish. In interviewing Don Walsh, she does not mention
his Challenger Deep sighting of a fish at almost 11 kilometers down. (Walsh had still maintained
in talking to Bill Streever for his 2109 book In Oceans Deep that it may have been a fish and not a holothurian.) Casey discusses numerous deep invertebrates
discovered, many still undescribed, by ROV and submersibles.
In discussing
giant squid, she includes encounters like the spectacular Pauline squid v. whale report from 1875 (which, allowing for some overestimated dimensions,
could be true) and the racing trimaran Geronimo's 2003 encounter with a 10m squid
that wrapped its arms around the rudder. Casey is relatively conservative in describing
the sizes of the giant and colossal squids, so it was interesting to read on page 187, “…researchers have found larger beaks from what they describe as a
super-colossal colossal squid.” Her source is a 2015 article in Deep Sea
News by Dr. Douglas Long, who refers to extra-large beaks found in sperm
whales' stomachs. I’ll have to poke into that a bit more.
She closes
with a discussion of the future of deep-sea exploration, centered around an Explorers Club dinner that includes all the luminaries of that world. The dangers
to the deep are huge: the possibilities of exploration and discovery are
endless.
There are
nits to pick. The USS Indianapolis was a cruiser, not a battleship. And it's odd wording when she says, referring to underwater explorers, “I’d come to think of
them as the ‘aquanauts,’" – a term in use for many decades.
There are 29
pages of page notes, four of references, and two of resources, so kudos to Casey
for documentation. There’s also a very good collection of photographs, most in
color, although Casey isn’t the only one to note that photography doesn’t do justice
to how spectacular the depicted creatures and features look in person.
The
Underworld also makes
a good companion to Helen Scales' The Brilliant Abyss, with Scales
providing more science and Casey conveying more the sense of wonder. Casey has turned
in a five-star tour of the deep that all us landlubbers should have on our
reading lists.
Matt Bille is a writer, historian, and naturalist living in Colorado Springs. He can be reached at mattsciwriter@protonmail.com. Website: www.mattbilleauthor.com.
Thursday, November 23, 2023
Whole-animal specimen collection: yes or no?
For centuries, Western naturalists and scientists collected animal species mainly by shooting or other lethal means. And they did it thoughtlessly: museums received hundreds of the same species. Live animals were prized for menageries, but were harder to collect and hard to ship home in good condition, especially in the days of sail. Others collected for the cabinets of curiosities for the wealthy, or simply for anything they could sell.
Sometimes even the scientists were foolish, in that they didn't think enough about the impact of such collection on the populations of rare species. Some of this was ignorance, but it should be obvious that, if it's harder and harder to find specimens, there are fewer to find, and maybe collecting more is not a good idea. We do not, as far as I can find out from books and discussions, have a case where a species was driven to extinction solely by scientific collecting,
One factor in old-style scientific collecting was that it was hard to share specimens at a distance. Shipping them back and forth was chancy, travel was time-consuming, and so on. Illustrations (although many were gorgeous and detailed, and an art form unto themselves) could only fill part of that gap. Before the 20th century, societies for scientific discussion, usually centered around universities and museums, met mostly locally, although transportation improvements continuously improved that situation as railroads and steamships became more common. Another challenge was that, without databases, online discussions, and especially the science and tools of DNA analysis and gene sequencing, there was limited information to derive from feathers, scales, and other castoff or partial specimens that could be collected without harming animals.
Allison Q. Byrne, in this article in PLOS Biology, set off a major round of discussion (as she hoped to) by arguing museums and other institutions should stop collecting whole animals. Not only did modern communications, photography and 3D modeling, and analysis techniques mean we could gather more information from fragmentary specimens, but there was harmful mindset behind whole-animal collecting, "Removing an animal from its natural habitat and killing it for the purpose of storing it in a museum collection reinforces the stance that humans have dominion over other living creatures." "...compassionate collection recognizes the importance of the emotional connection that links human and nonhuman lives..." students on a collecting trip would be excited to see a new specimen but realize "...because they found this creature, it will not live to see another day."
Michael W. Nachman, Elizabeth J. Beckman, Carla Cicero, Chris J. Conroy, Robert Dudley, Tyrone B. Hayes, et. al., (and by et. al. I mean 120 other scientists) just published this response in the same journal. While agreeing specimen collecting should be cautiously done and endorsing other aspects of Byrne's "compassionate collection," they argue she overstated what could be done without whole animals." "...verification of these species requires intensive anatomical analyses that are impossible without whole-organism voucher specimens." They added, "...understanding evolutionary processes often involves the study of large series of voucher specimens that document geographic, temporal, age, or sexual variation in specific traits." DNA and small castoff items like feathers don't allow us to fully study parasites or diseases. They don't allow us to track evolutionary processes.
Byrne responded with this piece arguing the response ignored the "beating heart" of her original essay: her focus on ethics. She argued some of the points about the need for lethal collections, noting for example, "Skin swabs taken from live animals provide for more accurate pathogen detection than those taken after formalin-fixation." It's a short response, though, and she does not engage that in depth. She encourages all scientists involved to think about their ethics and adherence to the status quo.
While I appreciate Byrne's points about our relation to animals, I think Nachman and company are right. Anatomical studies, especially, can only be done with specimens. Modern DNA studies and genome sequencing were developed on collected specimens. Using only the results of those studies means resulting analysis is only completely valid for that animal at a point in time. Collecting should be done only when needed, and as painlessly as possible, but it is necessary.
Matt Bille is a writer, historian, and naturalist living in Colorado Springs. He can be reached at mattsciwriter@protonmail.com. Website: www.mattbilleauthor.com.
Wednesday, November 22, 2023
Book Review: A Solid Introduction to Lakes
Lakes: Their Birth, Life, and Death
by John Richard Saylor
Timber Press, 2022, 240pp.
As someone whose fiction and nonfiction both often concern lake ecosystems and the life they support, I was looking for a primer to help me dig into the basic science. Saylor does not disappoint.
Here I learned the ways lakes form, the ways they exchange oxygen and CO2, and the life and death of lakes themselves, something I'd never really thought about. Another topic I knew little about is the controversy over how some lakes, the most famous being the Carolina Bays, formed and obtained their symmetrical shapes. (Saylor says correctly that extraterrestrial impact would have to be improbably precise, but he doesn't 100% rule it out, and none of the other theories works well.) He explores ice, glaciers, subglacial lakes, salt lakes, surface tension, overturning (the layers of water flip, oxygenating the depths) and many other topics. He also discusses ecology and the damage humans and their side effects, like agricultural runoff, are doing to so many of these vital bodies of water. The prose is readable although dry in spots, and I only had to reread to get the mechanisms or facts he was describing at two points.
I had some quibbles that held back a fifth star. Saylor doesn't treat the life within lakes - why which lakes have which types of plants and animals, the food chain, and how all lake life interacts - in as much (there's no way to avoid the word) depth as I hoped. And the book needs more illustrations. At one point he describes where factors fall on a graph without even showing the graph or offering examples of lakes the reader might be familiar with. The (here we go again) bottom line, though, is that I came away much better informed than I had been, so on balance Saylor definitely achieved his main goal. This is a reference everyone who enjoys the bounty of lakes, wonders about them, or writes about them should definitely have on the shelf.
Matt Bille is a writer, historian, and naturalist living in Colorado Springs. He can be reached at mattsciwriter@protonmail.com. Website: www.mattbilleauthor.com.
Sunday, November 19, 2023
Dunking on "Life on Our Planet"
As a paleonerd in general and a Dunkleosteus fan in particular, I think Life on Our Planet is a spectacular creation that could have been created better.
The Dunk sequence is given appropriate prominence. Good. The CGI is decent, and the problematical tail and dorsal fin are up to current thinking. The filmmakers did a fair job of using the third dimension: some animated underwater sequences in documentaries are confined mainly to one plane or orientation. Also, the animators get points for not merely re-imaging the juveniles and adults – at least, the scars/digs/scratches are different. It was filmed before the recent publications about Dunkleosteus size and proportions, so the filmmakers didn't need to pick a side.
After that, though – what the hell?
First, the Dunk just appears, with no word of the evolution
leading up to it or the larger groups it nests within. I never heard the word “placoderm.”
This is a problem that reoccurs throughout this series, but it bugs me
especially here. From the narration, you'd think this is the first fish with jaws. Really
bad.
Most bizarrely, why are the juveniles following an adult? I’ve
never read any suggestion that this happened.
IIRC, it would be utterly unknown behavior for fish. These aren't ducklings: they're independent juveniles that would swim like hell away from an adult that might use those jaws to make sushi out of them. For that matter, why are they even near each other? I see nothing in the literature about schooling behavior for Dunks.
Most disappointingly, the armor appears to be uncovered bone in direct contact with the water. You can see the scrapes – not healed or scarred over, as they would be with flesh, but simply dug in. This is very outmoded thinking. Also, the juveniles weirdly have just as many scrapes as the adults. Do they get in all their serious fights as teenagers and then switch to safe prey? Not hardly. Finally, I don't like the "wrists" on the fins. This isn't a plesiosaur. Look at Coccosteus, of which we know the outline, or any shark. There's a little room for debate on the exact appearance but I'm pretty sure this version is wrong. [Yes, I know I usually object to using the 1-m Coccosteus as a model for the ~8m Dunkleosteus, but like everyone else, I can be flexible when it supports my point,]
The series has problems beyond Dunkleosteus. Dinosaur
experts have shredded the design of animals like T. rex, noting the filmmakers
used obsolete ideas or copied (if not repurposing actual animation) from sources like
Jurassic Park, maximizing the scariness of the animals as opposed to the more
lifelike creations in Prehistoric Planet (PP). There’s no excuse for that given the budget the program had and the
resources of its parent company. One point often made online is that no effort seems to have been made to even look at the work of top paleoartists who’ve
spent years evolving their work along with the science.
The structure is odd – why are we in the “Age of Dinosaurs” (as voiced by the always-superb Morgan Freeman) watching modern ants fight? I like the sliding time scale, but surely some branching images showing how evolution is getting us from one featured animal to the next are in order.
Why do the trilobites make amplified, very clear clicking noises when
they walk given that they and presumably we observers are supposedly underwater?
I said the CGI was pretty good with the Dunk, although it’s not
on the level of realism we see with aquatic species in PP (which I hope will
someday venture to the Devonian). The overall quality varies, though. I saw a comment
on X that the anomalocarid doesn’t look at all like a live animal, just a
sophisticated cartoon. I went back to
look, and… yeah.
I was mostly entertained, occasionally enthralled and sometimes disappointed. Simply put, this series isn’t the best it could be, or should have been.
Screen grabs: Fair Use claimed for program review.
Dunk with offspring: Dunk head emphasizing damage to bone armor: Anamalocaris:
Matt Bille is a writer, historian, and naturalist living in Colorado Springs. He can be reached at mattsciwriter@protonmail.com. Website: www.mattbilleauthor.com.