Propleopus, the Carnivorous Kangaroo

Imagine you are on a safari to the Masai Mara National Reserve in Kenya.  If you timed your visit right, then the Mara is inundated with wildebeest and zebra, as well as numerous other herbivores.  You will probably see a number of carnivores as well: cheetahs, leopards, lions, and especially hyenas.  What you probably don’t realize is that most places aren’t like this.  The Masai Mara has one of the highest predator populations seen in Africa, due in large to the great number of prey animals available for a meal.  Regardless, you are forced to acknowledge that there are a great many more prey animals than there are animals to prey upon them. 

                This is known as the predator/prey ratio, and it can be seen all over the world, and can also be seen in the past.  While hundreds, sometimes thousands, of fossils of a single herbivorous dinosaur can be discovered, it is far more rare to unearth the remains of a predatory dinosaur.  But why is there this unbalance between predators and their prey?  Well, let’s take a look at a continuous, cyclical event that takes place in a period of 9.6 years in the wilderness of Canada, that should be able to shed some light on the situation.

                At the beginning of the almost-ten year cycle, we see a sharp increase in the number of hares.  When food is plentiful, these hares often produce two to three litters of around 12 leverets (baby hare) each.  After their numbers reach their limit, their population density reaches around eight hare per football field.  At this time, the hares have eaten all of the edible material they can reach.  Not only are they out of food, but the plants that they feed upon begin to create bitter chemicals in their leaves and edible parts, that keep the hare from digesting the plant material very efficiently. 

                While the hare population is flourishing so, the hare’s predators find an especially easy time of it.  Owls, wolves, and foxes all flourish, but one predator does particularly well: the Canadian lynx.  Hares consist between 40 and 85 percent of the average lynx’s diet, and they generally kill two hares every three days.  With such an explosion in hare numbers, all of these predators flourish, successfully raising more owlets, kits, and cubs.  However, shortly after the plants begin to release the anti-digestion chemicals, the hare populations tank.  With not enough food, many of the animals die off.  Then, a year or two after the hare die-off, the lynx also experiences a massive fall in numbers.  With the lynx no longer over hunting the hare, and the predator/prey ratio returned to normal, the hare starts the cycle all over again. 

                While this cycle seems to be a healthy part of the Canadian ecosystem, in other places, a rapid rise in the number of predators or prey could be disastrous.  Therefore, nature has made it so that, in a healthy ecosystem, the prey animals vastly outnumber the predatory animals.  But how does all of this tie into kangaroos?  We will get back to that in a minute.  First, let’s take a look at an extinct, 26,000 year old relative of today’s rat kangaroo. 

                First described by Australian zoologist Charles De Vis around the turn of the century, the holotype of Propleopus at first remained unique.  It wasn’t until the year 1967 that more remains belonging to the genus Propleopus appeared.  More was discovered in the following years, but very few remains have been discovered even to this day.  With millions of fossilized mammalian bones discovered in Australia, Propleopus are “known from teeth and jaws attributable to less than 20 individuals.” 

                There are multiple reasons why an animal does not appear with a great amount of frequency in the fossil record.  Perhaps it is because the animal was small; smaller bones are much more delicate, and therefore less likely to survive the fossilization process.  (They are also a lot smaller, and therefore usually harder to find then, say the humerus of an Brachiosaurus!)  Perhaps the animal lived in an environment where fossilization is unlikely.  For example, in millions of years, when intelligent life again evolves on this planet, or we are visited by intelligent life from elsewhere in the galaxy, they would find very little or no evidence of mountainous animals, like bighorn sheep or the snow leopard.  This is because mountains are in a constant state of geologic flux.  At times they are being pushed up; but even when they are rising, they are already eroding.  Given enough time, entire mountain ranges can disappear, or almost disappear, like in the Australian Outback.  Sometimes, it is because paleontologists are simply looking in the wrong places, and there are treasure troves of these animals just waiting to be discovered elsewhere.  It could also be because the rocks where the animal was deposited simply don’t exist anymore, something that is called an unconformity in geologist’s terms.  Maybe the animal was just not very successful, and went extinct after only a short amount of time.  The fossilized animal could also represent a transitional fossil, so creatures with those characteristics would have only been around for a few thousand years.  Or, of course, it could be because the animal was a predator, and there were fewer individuals to begin with.

                Now you are probably thinking that this is quite a leap.  Just because this kangaroo didn’t appear all that often in the fossil record doesn’t necessarily mean that it was carnivorous.  And you are right, as if this was the only evidence of Propleopus being a carnivorous kangaroo, I would be laughed right out of the Neolithic Age: and they, at best, had only a very, very primitive form of language, and probably would, at best, barely understand what I was saying.  However, there is more evidence in favor of a carnivorous Propleopus.  As I am fond of saying, “the teeth tell the tale.” 

                Studies of the dentition of Propleopus show a close resemblance to small, extant insectivores or omnivores, i.e. the mountain pygmy possum and the musky rat kangaroo.  Where the teeth of Propleopus differ from the mountain pygmy possum and the musky rat kangaroo, however, the differences “could be interpreted as adaptations to meat-eating.”  To sum up, the incisors are short, stout, and appear great for stabbing, the premolars are strongly serrated, which is perfect for tearing into very tough stuff (perhaps tendon), and the molars are greatly reduced in size, as sometimes seen in the genus Wakaleo, one of the genera of marsupial lion, like Thylacoleo.  Furthermore, the molars, although reduced in size, share similar features to the largest extant marsupial carnivore today, the Tasmanian devil.  These features in the Tasmanian devil serve to keep bone splinters from penetrating the gums, and clearly would not be needed to serve that purpose in an herbivore. 

                The most revealing tale of the teeth can only be revealed by a microscope.  Studies have shown that, when you compare the microscopic wear patterns on the teeth of a herbivore and a carnivore, you can see obvious, and distinguishable, differences.  The teeth tell the tale of the diet of an animal, and help to show us what Propleopus might have eaten.  When compared with the wear patterns of closely related herbivores, like the musky rat kangaroo, and marsupial and placental carnivores, like the thylacine, Thylacoleo, and dogs, the wear patterns seen on Propleopus resembles that of the carnivores more so than that of the herbivores. 

                So was Propleopus a carnivore, or a herbivore, or both?  One hypothesis that has been put forward is that Propleopus was situated in a similar ecological niche as the modern day African baboon, eating whatever came it way, be it plants, eggs, insects, or meat.  Whatever the answer, is is doubtful that it could be answered now, and it is likely that only further research, and more discoveries, will ever hope to unravel the mystery surrounding Propleopus, the seemingly killer kangaroo.  

The Komodo Dragon: Deadly Drooler or Poisonous Predator?

The Komodo dragon (labeled "Vulnerable" by the IUCN) has long had the title of "World's Deadliest Drooler."  Native only to the Komodo Islands in Indonesia, The story went that the Komodo would bite its prey and let it slowly die, eaten away from the inside out by all of the deadly bacteria that fermented in its mouth.  It ends up that this story, as that is all it is, a story, originated from just one or two accounts of the creature almost a century or so ago, and that they were based almost entirely upon observation.  After these accounts were made public, more and more researchers and scientists tagged on to this idea until, eventually, it was a scientifically accepted fact.

Further support for this hypothesis was observations of Komodos biting buffalo, a main food source, and simply hanging around for days, weeks, and (I believe) on at least one occasion, a month.  Scientists believed that the animals would slowly succumb to the copious amounts of bacteria that were at home in the mouth of the worlds largest extant lizard. 

While it is true that the mouth of the Komodo dragon was, in fact, home to a number of very virulent strains of bacteria, it seems that there are other players at work.  A group of scientists noticed that the Komodo dragon, and other closely related monitor lizards, all had interesting bulges in the sides of their mouths.  These bulges they thought resembled those seen in the Gila monster, one of just two lizards that were previously known to have venom, the other being Mexico's beaded lizard.  Komodo skulls are hard to get a hold of, however, and it wasn't until 2009 that the team of researchers were finally able to get ahold of a Komodo dragon skull to put through an MRI machine.  The MRI scan showed that the Komodo did indeed have venom glands.  Although the venom appeared not to be deadly, it was potent enough to act as a sedative.  This, the team concluded, was how the Komodo would kill its victims: sedate them with its mildly potent venom, and then finish them off when they were slow and torporous. 

This didn't explain why it sometimes took weeks for Komodos to finish off a buffalo.  Kurt Schwenk believes it is because the Komodos often don't want to risk life and limb.  So what they do is they bite their victims, and let a combination of shock and bloodloss do the trick.  As the prey slowly starves, being surrounded by Komodo dragons and unable to retreat anywhere, more and more Komodos congregate in preparation of the coming feast.  And given their slow metabolic rates, they can afford to wait, too: unlike a lion or a cheetah, they are in no hurry to finish off their prey, and see no reason to take unnecessary risks to finish off the prey.

While all of this research is highly disputed, and subject to many different points of interpretation, it does seem like the idea of the Komodo killing by its toxic drool is indeed false, although only future research will decide all of this for certain.

Acrobatic Felines: The Caracal

(Almost) everybody loves cats!  Not only the domestic kitties, but wild cats too, like the speedy cheetah, the social lion, and the elusive snow leopard, among others.  But most people don't know that there are all sorts of different cats, and thirty-six generally accepted species of cats!  Many have numerous sub-species as well, the leopard having eight or nine all by itself.

Today, I am going to introduce you to one of my absolute favorite wild cats: the caracal, which is fortunately labeled "Least Concern" by the IUCN.  The caracal is found all over Africa, pretty much except in the rainforests and the deserts, as you can see in the map below.  The caracal is also found in various non-African countries, such as Israel, Iran, Arabia, Jordan, Pakistan, and India.

I am not going to do a lot of talking (which is not normal, believe me), as words can't really do justice to what this cat can do.  So just click the link below, and be amazed.  (I actually have never watched this video with the audio on, so I don't even know what he is saying, because I think that the audio would simply detract from the video.  Enjoy!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dCXK6KhkTw

Arthur the Aardvark

Almost everybody has heard of Arthur Read from the popular PBS show "Arthur."  What a lot of people don't realize is that Arthur is an aardvark.  And even more people don't usually even know what an aardvark is.

A fossorial (burrowing, like terrestrial or marine), nocturnal mammal from Africa, the aardvark is an insectivore, its favorite food being termites, and is labeled as "Least Concern" by the IUCN.  The aardvark, as you can see below, inhabits an incredibly large portion of Africa, including South Africa, Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Mozambique, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), Burundi, Somalia, Angola, and many others.

The aardvark has several important adaptations for its burrowing, insectivorous life style.  Perhaps the most important are the large claws on its front limbs.  These claws enable the aardvark to not only dig out immense burrows for habitation use, but also to dig into termite mounds to extract a meal.  Interestingly, when the aardvark leaves its burrow to dig a new one, the old burrow is often taken up by the African wild dog, where the pups shelter until they are old enough to leave the protection of the burrow.

The aardvark also has thick skin, which keep the termites from biting it, allowing it to feast in relative peace.  A further adaptation to keep insects (as well as dust) out is in its nose: it can close its nose, preventing both bugs and dust from invading its breathing passages.  Finally, another very important insectivorous adaptation is the tongue of the aardvark.  The long, sticky tongue of the aardvark is usually about 12 inches long, equivalent to about one-sixth the length of the animal!  Long, sticky tongues are a fairly common adaptation for termite-eaters such as the numbat (Myrmecobius fasciatus), pangolins (Manis sp.), and the giant anteater (Myrmecophaga tridactyla) among them.

A southern tamandua (Tamandua tetradactyla) shows off its extraordinarily long tongue during an animal demonstration at one of Denver Zoo's teen career days.  Tamanduas are also insectivorous, and clearly also possess an amazing tongue.

Predators of Baby Leopards: You Might Be Surprised

One of my favorite TV shows is BBC's Big Cat Diary, which I believe I have already mentioned once or twice.  It has been called by critics as "The soap opera of the Serengeti," and has played for a number of seasons, under various other titles.  Essentially, the shows premise is a log of what two prides of lions (the Marsh and Ridge Prides) are doing, as well as my two favorites, the leopards and the cheetahs.

This is neither a leopard nor a cheetah, but a baboon skeleton.  It's probably poor planning on my part to not put a picture of what I've already talked about so far, but you're going to have to deal with it.  Or just pretend that's a cheetah, baboons and cheetahs are practically the same animal anyways.

In one episode I was recently watching, one of the co-hosts, Saba Douglas-Hamilton, said something that I thought was very interesting about leopard cubs.  She said that the top three animal threats to African leopards (besides humans, forcing the IUCN to label the African leopard as "Near Threatened,") are lions, hyenas....and baboons.  Check out the baboon skeleton (above) and mounted stuffed specimen from the American Museum of Natural History below!

I was actually completely kidding before, baboons and cheetahs are not really that closely related at all, and very few people have an excuse to confuse the two.

I knew baboons were an issue to leopards as one of the leopard stars of the earlier series, dubbed Half-Tail, was missing half her tail, hence her name.  The two hosts at the time, Jonathan Scott and Simon King, said that they thought the missing half of her tail was due to either a lion attack or, more likely, baboons.

Chilling like a villain: a leopard takes a break after staring out the window all day and stressing out about those stupid robins in that stupid birdbath.  Those robins better consider themselves lucky that there's glass between them, you mark my words.  Photo Credit: Ted and Gail Neher

I had never really thought about it before, but when I heard Saba mention it, I thought that was kind of strange.  Well, I looked up "baboon skulls" on Google Images, and I think I get it now; their canines can grow up to two inches long.  As a good comparison, the average lion typically possesses two inch long canines.  Now that is some serious dental hardware; I'm glad I'm not a baboon dentist!  (That, and I'm guessing that you don't get paid very much).

A baboon skull mounted at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, New York.  Check out those nasty canines, they're frickin' huge!!

Baboons, like many primates (actually I believe all except for tarsiers), are omnivores, so theoretically they could use their canines to subdue and consume their prey.  However, it seems that male vs. male competition is the primary reason why baboons have such enormous canines.  Check out the "mandrill" webpage on the website for Bone Clones (for the lazy amongst you, HERE is a link), and you can see that the male has enormous teeth, while the female has a dentition that is much less impressive.  This seems to support the idea that baboons (at least the males) primarily use their teeth in interspecific intimidation, in order to frighten off other males and secure breeding rights to the females.

Works Cited:

Cloning the Cheetah: Why Bother?

In an attempt to discover why the cheetah has such a low fertility rate, a team of scientists, including David Wildt and Stephen O'Brien, decided to take a look at blood samples from a number of cheetahs, labeled "Vulnerable" by the IUCN.  What they found was startling, and very worrying; the cheetahs appeared to be dangerously, perilously inbred; they were all practically clones of each other. 

Wildt and O'Brien decided to confirm this hypothesis by taking skin samples from a number of cheetahs, and attempting to graft them onto a number of other cheetahs.  In a healthy population of animals, the skin grafts would be immediately rejected.  This is because the body of the animal who received the skin graft would recognize the skin to be from another individual, a foreign body, and attack it, just as it would attack any foreign body (i.e., germs or bacteria.)  Even in humans, skin grafts are often rejected, even ones from close relatives.

Normally a very majestic looking animal, this particular cheetah seems to have been caught at a bad time.  Photo Credit: Ted and Gail Neher

So when every single one of the cheetah skin grafts were accepted by the other animals, this did not bode well for the cheetah.  This meant the genetic diversity of the cheetah was incredibly, shockingly low.  But why is genetic diversity so important?  Well, without genetic diversity, the DNA of the individuals comprising a given population are very similar.  These individuals essentially become clones of each other, with many similar attributes, most important among them their immune systems.  In a healthy population of, say, cheetahs, say that fifty percent of them are immune to a certain disease, most of them evolving from a common ancestor.  The other fifty percent of the population has absolutely no protection against said disease, and the illness ravages their population.  An unfortunate (and oversimplified) event, to be sure, but fifty percent of the individuals remain to rebuild the population to what it once was.  With the low genetic diversity seen in the cheetah, if a similar disease in the hypothetical above sweeps through Africa, it is quite likely that a much lower percent than fifty would survive.  It is also possible that this disease would so ravage the global population of cheetahs that they would simply be unable to recover from this catastrophic event.

A cheetah scratching a log at the Denver Zoo.  The cheetahs incredibly slender build can help distinguish it from other cats. 

So why is the cheetah so catastrophically inbred?  Most of the time, low genetic diversity is due to a given species having passed through a "bottleneck."  20,000 years ago, cheetahs spanned the entire globe; ranging all over Europe, Asia and Africa, two species of cheetah, or "proto-cheetahs" if you will, even roamed North America (Miracinonyx inexpectatus and M. trumani.)  When the most recent Ice Age drew to a close around 10,000 years ago, the dramatic climatic changes (and likely human influences, as well) resulted in the extinction of much of the world's mammalian megafauna. Researchers think that this mass-extinction managed to knock the cheetah's numbers down to a very small population, likely comprising a mere handful of individuals.  (In fact, I remember reading once that at one time, some people thought that a single pregnant female mother was able to survive, but I don't think that this idea is all that highly regarded anymore).  While the cheetahs were obviously able to build their population numbers and density by a significant amount than that seen 10,000 years ago, this bottleneck came with a price; genetic diversity was, and is, miniscule.

Works Cited:

Smilodon Vs. Thylacosmilus: The Saber-Toothed Marsupial

Two million years ago, a saber-toothed predator stalked the landscape of South America.  Possessed with long, dagger-like teeth, Thylacosmilus was undoubtedly a terrifying predator of the plains of Patagonia.  This saber-toothed predator would have given even the saber-toothed cats pause, despite the fact that (to paraphrase Obi-Wan Kenobi), "He's more kangaroo now than cat."  Despite superficial similarities, Thylacosmilus was not a saber-toothed cat.  Instead, it was a six foot long, 500 pound saber-toothed marsupial.

A reconstruction of Thylacosmilus by the talented young artist Sam Lippincott.  Interestingly, the super-sized canines of Thylacosmilus grew continually throughout its life, unlike those of Smilodon or Xenosmilus (see below), two of the actual saber-toothed cats.  Photo Credit: Sam Lippincott

The immense canines possessed by Thylacosmilus had previously evolved in both the cat-like Nimravids and the various saber-toothed cats (amongst others), and is a classic example of convergent evolution, a topic, in my opinion, that is one of the most interesting happenstances in nature.  We will hopefully talk about convergent evolution sometime next week.

A mounted skeleton of Xenosmilus, a type of saber-toothed feline, at the Mace Brown Museum of Natural History at the College of Charleston in South Carolina.  I got to visit here in July of 2014, and it was a very nice little museum.  Compare the skull of Xenosmilus with that of Thylacosmilus (below).

Anyways, Thylacosmilus lived during the Miocene and the Pliocene Epochs, from 10-2 MYA.  Up until 2 MYA, South America had been its own, separate land mass, not connected to any other continents since some time during the Cretaceous.  2 MYA, however, something extraordinary happened: the Isthmus of Panama was formed, connecting the two continents.  With this connection, came something scientists have dubbed the "Great American Interchange."  Animals from both continents could move, and spread out into the other continents.  For some creatures, like the saber-toothed cats, this was a good thing; they moved down into South America from North America and dominated the landscape.  For other predators, like the terror-bird Titanis(again, a topic for another time), it was good, for a while; after moving into the southern part of North America, however, Titanis was outcompeted by other predators.  For Thylacosmilus, it was down-right disastrous.  Shortly after the Great American Interchange, fossil evidence of Thylacosmilus entirely disappears, similar to the competition between the dingo and the thylacine that drove the thylacine to extinction on mainland Australia.

The skull of Thylacosmilus on display at the American Museum of Natural History in New York.  Got to see this sucker in person in August 2014, when I visited with my good buddy Zach Evens! 

This is a partial post for the "Convergent Evolution" series.  That means that this post is partially included, but was not made specifically to be a part of that series.  HERE is a link to the Homebase for this series.  

Animal Spotlight: The Mountain Pygmy Possum

You've probably never heard of the mountain pygmy possum (Burramys parvus); few people have, it being one of Australia's many lesser known marsupials.  One of five extant (opposite of extinct, or still living today) species of pygmy possum, the mountain pygmy possum has a very interesting story about its discovery, a story that we will now look at.

The genus Burramys, the genus the mountain pygmy possum is a part of, also contains three extinct species of possum.   In fact, prior to 1966, the mountain pygmy possum had been described solely from fossils dated from the Pleistocene Epoch.  (The Pleistocene Epoch dates from around 2.5 million years ago to around 10,000 years ago, when the last Ice Age ended.)  It was first described from these Pleistocene fossils by the famous geologist/zoologist/paleontologist Robert Broom in the year 1896, and was assumed to be extinct, just like the other three members of the genus Burramys.  That is until 1966, when one showed up in a ski hut on Mount Hotham, a mountain in New South Wales, southern Australia, and home to the Hotham Alpine Resort.

Since this surprising discovery, scientists have located three populations of the Mountain Pygmy Possum in different spots in southern Australia.  Although it is exciting to discover a species that was previously thought to be extinct, it is saddening to find out that this animal has a wild population of a mere 2,000 individuals, and is labeled "Critically Endangered" by the IUCN.  Means have been taken to protect the mountain pygmy possum, including the so-called "Tunnel of Love," a little possum-path that granted the males better access to the female habitat, and helping to reduce fatal encounters with automobiles.

Works Cited:

Mountain Pygmy Possum. (n.d.). - Just another global2.vic.edu.au weblog. Retrieved June 29, 2012, from http://teacherrsc.global2.vic.edu.au/

Dinner Plain on Dwellable

Digest This: Or Can You? A Koala Could

I've been reading some interesting things about the koala (Phascolarctos cinereus) that I thought you might be interested in hearing.  As we all know, koalas are one of the sleepiest animals, and can be found sleeping and resting around eighteen or nineteen hours a day.  That means that out of their thirteen year life span, they are sleeping for around ten of those years. By comparison, a human with a lifespan of seventy-five years that sleeps an average of eight hours a day would sleep around 25 years of their life.  While a lot more than twelve years for the koala, keep in mind that humans only sleep around 33% of their life, while koalas sleep around a whopping 75-80%. But why do they sleep so much? The answer lies in what they eat: Eucalyptus leaves.

The leaves of the Eucalyptus trees are incredibly hard to digest.  Not only are the leaves very fibrous, much like celery (think about how hard celery is to chew), but they are also chock-full of toxins that very few animals can digest, with especially high concentrations of volatile oils and phenolic compounds.  What does that mean in English?  Well, phenolics are a type of organic chemical that naturally occur in plants, where they can act as deterrents against predatory browsing at the hands (or rather the mouths) of herbivores.  As stated before, the concentration of phenolics in the Eucalyptus leaves are so high that most animals would simply be unable to digest the leaves.  The koala decided not to take this lying down (ironic, as that is most of what koalas do in a day), and have evolved in a few key ways to help them deal with these toxins.

A fascinating moment of a koala's life: being awake.  Quite the statistical anomaly.

The first is simple; they have teeth that are great for chewing.  The broad, high-cusped molars possessed by the koala help it to thoroughly mash the food in its mouth prior to further digestion.  In our own mouth, we also have molars, along with a wide assortment of other types of teeth. When you are chewing your dinner, you tear bite-sized chunks off with your front teeth, or incisors and canines. Then, you move the food to the back of your mouth for further processing, and you further chew the food with your molars. The cusps on our teeth make it so the food is crushed fairly thoroughly. However, the koala doesn’t eat food like lettuce that can be torn up fairly easily. Thus, the koala has higher cusps on their molars, allowing for the Eucalyptus leaves to be ground up quite nicely.

A koala skeleton on display at the American Museum of Natural History in New York, New York.  Note the molars in the back.

The second major evolutionary adaptation is that the koala has a very long cecum, a pouch of sorts that is considered to be the first part of the large intestine.  In fact, at four times its own body length, the cecum of the koala is proportionally longer than that of any other mammal on the planet! The bacteria in the cecum help to break down the tough tissues in plants, such as cellulose, an important structural component of the cell wall in plants.  This gives our fuzzy marsupial friend a whole lot more time and space for that tough plant material to be digested.  Apparently, it takes a whole lot of guts to be a koala.

Believe it or not, I don't have a picture of a koala cecum on file.  So instead, take a look at this other interesting adaptation of the koala.  Instead of having a single thumb like we humans have, it has two!  Its first two digits are both functional thumbs, and are opposable to the other three digits on their hand.  You can see part of the hand skeleton the picture above this one.

Koalas aren't born with those important cecum bacteria, though, and to my knowledge no animals really are.  After five months of suckling from mom, the koala joey starts to enjoy the "partially digested leaf material produced from the female's anus" (MacDonald, 1984), or, as I like to call it, "Mom's Butt Leaves."  This delicious meal is actually thought to come from the cecum, giving the joey those essential bacteria and microbes, not to mention a delightful, pre-digested meal of Mom's Butt Leaves.  (Check out our other post about butt bacteria and eating poop HERE.)

Get yours at your local King Soopers today!

A fourth innovation of the koala is simply the exorbitant amount of time that the marsupial spends sleeping.  When you sleep, you are burning fewer calories than you would be if you were running around or hunting, or moving through a Eucalyptus tree browsing on its leaves.  Therefore, the more time the koala spends sleeping, the more energy it saves in exchange.  (The popular myth that the koala gets "stoned" by the Eucalyptus leaves is nothing more than that: a myth.)  The koala is able to delicately walk the line that we all desire to find: the maximum amount of sleep that one can get without dying.  It's truly a marvelous achievement, one which the koala handles with much grace and aplomb.

During the Pleistocene, there existed a larger species of koala, Phascolarctos stirtoni, a slightly larger koala than the modern species, P. cinereus.  Based on dentary measurements of both species from Price et. al., I came up with an approximate size increase of 1.4.  That is, take the length of a body part of P. cinereus, the modern koala, and multiple that value by 1.4, and you should get the approximate length of the same body part for the robust koala, P. stirtoni.  Not exactly the most precise method, but one that'll work for our purposes.  Below, you can see an approximate size comparison that I made of the two koalas, our modern species in gray and the extinct species in brown.

An approximate size comparison between the modern Phascolarctos cinereus (right) and the extinct P. stirtoni, with a can of Mom's Butt Leaves for scale.

More recently, scientists have realized that there is actually no evidence that does not support the idea that the hypothetical Laser-Eyed Koala (Phascolarctos oculaser) could have maybe possibly existed.  Scientists have been quoted as saying "We have never found it but that's not to say that who's to say that we aren't all koalas."  Below is the first unrefuted photographic evidence of the Laser-Eyed Koala in action.

That incredible, hands-on natural history museum in scenic Morrison, Colorado never stood a chance against that koala.  Fortunately, repairs to the facility should be completed on time for tomorrows 10:15 AM tour, which is included with your admission fee and well worth the time.  Talk about great free advertising, am I right?

Works Cited:

Hättenschwiler, S., & Vitousek, P. (2000). The role of polyphenols in terrestrial ecosystem nutrient cycling. Trends in Ecology & Evolution, 238-243.

Logan, M., & Sanson, G. (2002). The effect of tooth wear on the feeding behaviour of free-ranging koalas (Phascolarctos cinereus, Goldfuss). Journal of Zoology, 63-69.

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