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…April fools! Let’s turn that text the right way around:

April Fools 2026: The Backwards Elasmosaurus

In 1869, American paleontologist Edward Drinker Cope published a description and reconstruction of a newly-discovered plesiosaur, Elasmosaurus platyurus.

But there was a big problem: the head was on the wrong end.

It also didn’t have hind flippers, since no limb material had been found and Cope assumed the long “tail” was the primary means of propulsion.

By the next year the mistake had been recognized, pointed out by Cope’s mentor Joseph Leidy (and not his Bone Wars rival Othniel Charles Marsh, despite later retellings). Cope hurriedly published a corrected edition with the same title and date, and it seems he was embarrassed enough to attempt to cover up the whole affair, even recalling and replacing most of the preprint copies he’d sent out to colleagues around the world.

April Fools 2025: When Pterosaurs Were Swimming Gryphons

When it was first described by Cosimo Alessandro Collini in 1784, Pterodactylus wasn’t originally interpreted as a flying reptile. The idea that species could go completely extinct wasn’t fully understood yet, so fossils were assumed to represent things that still existed somewhere in distant unexplored regions. And so, since the oceans seemed like the best place for undiscovered animals to hide, this strange little creature was initially speculated to be aquatic.

Although it was soon properly recognized as a flying animal with some surprisingly mammal-like early reconstructions, the aquatic idea persisted until at least 1830 when Johann Georg Wagler published a restoration of Pterodactylus with huge membranous paddle-like flippers. He even grouped pterosaurs together with ichthyosaurs, plesiosaurs, and monotremes in a proposed vertebrate class called “Gryphi” (literally “gryphons“) and considered them all to be transitional between birds and mammals.

Wagler’s whole classification system seems esoteric and improbable by modern standards, but it’s a fascinating look at a pre-Darwinian “chain of being” sort of mindset where all organisms were thought to exist in a fixed hierarchy with pre-set roles.

April Fools 2024: The Curious Case Of The Chunky-Necked Ceratopsians

Much like the aquatic Compsognathus featured here a couple of years ago, not every novel idea that came out of the Dinosaur Renaissance was a winner.

And one of the oddest examples came from author/illustrator John C. McLoughlin.

His 1979 book Archosauria: A New Look at the Old Dinosaur featured an unusual interpretation of ceratopsian dinosaurs’ characteristic bony frills, proposing that they were actually muscle attachment sites for both powerful jaw muscles and enormous back muscles to help hold up their large heavy heads. This would have completely buried the frill under soft tissue, giving the animals massive thick necks and humped shoulders, and resulted in an especially weird reconstruction of Triceratops with a grotesque sort of wrinkly sewn-together appearance.

This concept didn’t entirely originate from McLoughlin – three years earlier in 1976 he’d illustrated Ronald Paul Ratkevich’s book Dinosaurs of the Southwest, which seems to have been the inspiration for Archosauria’s fleshy-frilled ceratopsians. A few paleontologists had also proposed jaw muscles attaching onto the frills during the 1930s and 1950s, and there’s even a book from as far back as 1915 that also shows the top of a Triceratops’ frill connected to its back! But McLoughlin’s Archosauria image is still by far the most extreme and infamous version of the idea.

There were a lot of things in Archosauria that were actually very forward-thinking for the time period, such as putting fuzz and feathers on small theropods and depicting non-avian dinosaurs as active fast-moving animals. The unique ceratopsian reconstructions, however, never caught on for several big reasons:

Firstly, all that hefty muscle tissue would have locked ceratopsians’ heads firmly in place, unable to move at all, which just doesn’t make sense biomechanically. Then there was the lack of skeletal evidence – muscles that big should have left huge visible attachment scars all over the frill bones, and there was no sign of anything like that on any fossil specimens. Finally, it turns out the ceratopsian head-neck joint was actually highly mobile, suggesting their heads were free to make a wide range of motions in life.

As wrong as they were even at the time, McLoughlin’s ceratopsians were still an interesting speculative idea, and notable for advocating for fleshier dinosaur reconstructions at a time when paleoart was trending towards shrinkwrapping.

April Fools 2023: How Titanis Lost The Right To Bear Arms

Huge, flightless, and carnivorous, the phorusrhacids (or terror birds) were some of the largest apex predators in South America during its Cenozoic “splendid isolation” as an island continent – and they were possibly the closest that birds ever came to reclaiming the ecological roles of their extinct non-avian theropod dinosaur relatives.

And for a while in the late 1990s and early 2000s there was a hypothesis that they’d even re-evolved clawed hands.

This idea was based on the wing bones of Titanis walleri, the only terror bird known to have dispersed northwards during the Great American Biotic Interchange when North and South America became connected via the Isthmus of Panama.

Living during the Pliocene and Pleistocene in Florida and Texas, between about 5 and 1.8 million years ago, Titanis stood around 1.5-1.8m tall (~5-6′) and was heavily built, with long strong legs and a massive hooked beak. Remains of its small wings were incomplete and fragmentary but had seemingly unusual joints, with what looked like a stiffer wrist and more flexible “fingers” than other birds, which led paleontologist Robert Chandler to propose in 1994 that this terror bird species had modified its wings into clawed grasping arms similar to those of dromaeosaurs, used to restrain prey animals while its beak tore them apart.

But the idea of a giant murder-bird with added meathook-hands only lasted about a decade. Further investigation in 2005 showed that Titanis‘ arms weren’t that weird after all – the same sort of joints are found in terror birds’ closest living relatives, the seriemas, and so Titanis really had the same sort of small vestigial wings as many other large flightless birds.

…However, there still could have been some claws on there. Many modern birds actually have one or two small claws on their hands that aren’t visible under their feathers, and terror birds like Titanis having something like that going on is completely plausible – they just wouldn’t have been using them for any sort of specalized predatory function.

April Fools 2022: The Aquatic Dinosaur That Wasn’t

So, Spinosaurus wasn’t technically the first known aquatic non-avian dinosaur.

That title instead temporarily went to Compsognathus corallestris.

While the idea that hadrosaurs and sauropods were wallowing swamp-dwellers had been completely abandoned at the start of the Dinosaur Renaissance, the new view of dinosaurs as active sophisticated animals led to a surprising aquatic hypothesis during the early days of this paleontological revolution.

A specimen of the small theropod Compsognathus discovered in southeastern France in the early 1970s was only the second skeleton ever found of this dinosaur, and came over a century after the first. It was initially thought to represent a new species since it was about 50% larger than the German specimen of Compsognathus longipes, and it seemed to have something very unusual going on with its hands – its forelimbs were somewhat poorly-preserved and distorted, and had traces of some sort of large fleshy structure around the hands that was interpreted as representing elongated three-fingered flippers used for swimming.

This wasn’t necessarily as ridiculous of an idea as it might sound. Compsognathus lived during the Late Jurassic, about 150 million years ago, at a time when Europe was a group of islands in a shallow tropical sea. A semiaquatic dinosaur specialized to swim and dive, hunting the abundant aquatic prey in its environment, and easily able to island-hop all around the European archipelago seemed at least somewhat plausible, and reconstructions of fin-handed C. corallestris even appeared in several popular dinosaur books of the time.

But it didn’t last.

Within just a few years doubt was being cast on this idea, and further studies of both known Compsognathus skeletons in the late 1970s and early 1980s concluded that C. corallestris was actually a fully-grown adult individual of the juvenile C. longipes. The French Compsognathus had normal-looking hands for its kind after all, with two large clawed fingers and a vestigial third finger, and the “flipper” impressions had just been ripples in the fossil slab.

For a long time after that the general view became that there just weren’t any aquatic non-avian dinosaurs at all – but more recent discoveries like the new Spinosaurus material and Halszkaraptor are starting to suggest that some of these animals were much more at home in the water than previously thought.

Something resembling Compsognathus corallestris might still surprise us in the future.

April Fools 2021: Time for T. rex

Did you know that in all the time I’ve been posting paleoart here, I’ve never actually done a proper full illustration of the most popular name in all of paleontology?

I think it’s finally time to fix this glaring oversight.

It’s time for T. rex.