Dishonest Bears

Mammals use a variety of means to communicate with one another: vocal, scent, and visual. Even those that are mostly solitary need to do this from time to time, whether to mark out their territories as a warning to others or to attract mates. 

Often these signals need to convey more than the basic message, but also provide some information about the animal that left them. This often includes physical fitness, whether to intimidate potential intruders or to advertise oneself as a sexual partner. At close range, this can be achieved through such things as growing huge antlers, proving that you have the physical capacity to waste resources on something that's otherwise pointless. But, at longer range, a simple indicator of size may be all that's required.

Black Bears and the Uncertain Apex

The concept of the food pyramid is a central one in ecology. The idea is that since consumption cannot ever be 100% efficient, every type of animal must necessarily be less common than whatever it is that it feed on, at least in terms of its total biomass. Plants are more common than herbivores are more common than small carnivores are more common than larger carnivores.

The actual picture is more complicated than this. Many "carnivores" are at least partly omnivorous, and they often eat large herbivores more regularly than they eat small carnivores. Plus, we also need to consider the detritivores and parasites. But the general pattern holds, and at the top of the pyramid, we find the apex predators. 

It's possible to argue as to what exactly constitutes an apex predator. The general idea, however, is that they feed on other animals without being preyed upon themselves. At least among terrestrial mammals, an average body mass of more than about 15 kg (33 lbs) is generally about enough that predators need to manage their own population (through competition, territoriality, infanticide, etc.) rather than having to worry about something larger and scarier managing it for them. 

Prehistoric Mammal Discoveries 2025

Computer reconstruction of the skeleton of the Miocene
 right whale Megabalaena, published this year

As another year draws to a close, it's time to take another dash through the mammalian palaeontological findings of the last twelve months. As always, this will be a rapid survey of some discoveries that I find particularly interesting without any detailed discussion, but hopefully covering as wide a range of prehistoric mammals as I can.

Large Herbivores

Land mammals don't come much larger than mammoths, and such animals, and their mastodon relatives, have shaped the world around them through their mere presence and the food they chose to eat. A study on southern mammoths (Mammuthus meridionalis) uncovered at a million-year-old site in northern Spain showed that the climate at the time was already Mediterranean, a warm gap within the Ice Ages, causing them to feed more on grasslands than trees. While hyenas had fed on some of the carcasses, they were not alone, as the evidence also shows clear signs of butchering with stone tools.

Fishing for Salmon (When You're a Bear)

Bears like eating fish. Among the most iconic images of brown bears (Ursus arctos) are those that show them wading out into a wide river or by a waterfall, and catching salmon for their food. Yet this isn't necessarily an image of everyday ursine behaviour.

This is because wide rivers, whitewater rapids, and so on, aren't all that common. Or at least, they don't form the majority of bear habitat. We watch and photograph bears feeding in such places because it looks dramatic and, more importantly, it's relatively easy to do. It's the same with other predators. We know a fair amount about the hunting habits of wolves and lions because we can watch them in Yellowstone Park or the Serengeti, where the terrain is wide open. That allows us to safely observe their behaviour from a distance, so, understandably, we'd prefer it where possible.

Prehistoric Mammal Discoveries 2024

Zalamdalestes

I have reached the end of another year and that means it's time for what has become a tradition on this blog over the last eight years: a look back at some of the discoveries about fossil mammals made in 2024 that didn't make into the regular posts. As usual, this will be a quick whistle-stop tour of mammalian palaeontology, hopefully focusing on some of the more interesting findings. Like any field of science, it has not been standing still.

Large Herbivores

Woolly mammoths (Mammuthus primigenius) are among the best-known of all prehistorical mammals to the general public and, aided by the fact that some lived recently enough to be preserved in permafrost, they are also amongst the best-studied. But there is still more to learn about the details of their lives and habits. A study published this year looked at the detailed isotopic composition of a fossil mammoth that had died about 12,000 BC in Alaska, showing that she was female, and had migrated over 1000 km (600 miles) during her lifetime, having originally been born in the Yukon. The area in which she died was popular with mammoths, but also with humans - she may have died peacefully, but the presence of people where mammoths congregated may not be a coincidence.

From Dragon to Cave Bear

In 1675, German physician Johann Paterson Hain published a detailed description of the bones of what he believed to have been a dragon. Such bones had been unearthed from German caves for centuries and identified as belonging to various mythical creatures, with unicorns perhaps the most popular - likely since one could sell supposed unicorn horns for their magical healing properties. Fortunately for us, his illustrations were highly accurate and we can identify them for what they really are.

Indeed, while naturalists continued describing such bones as belonging to fantastical animals into the 18th century, physician and rationalist Gregor Horst had beaten them to the punch, pointing out as early as 1656 that bones recovered from Unicorn Cave (yes, that is its actual name) looked remarkably like those of "bears, lions, and humans". Today, we can look at Paterson Hain's original illustrations and confirm that he had produced the first known published drawings of the bones of a cave bear.

Cubs in the Snow

Both brown and American black bears spend much of the winter asleep. Whether this counts as true 'hibernation' is debatable, although, in recent years, most scientists no longer insist on a strict physiological definition, having given in and accepted the word as it is usually understood in English. They do this because their food is in short supply during the winter, and spending the entire time snoozing is a good way of conserving energy.

Before hibernating, they construct a den, in which they will spend the next several months, depending on the exact weather conditions. Significantly, mothers of both species give birth in the den, often while they are still asleep. All of which works for a large, omnivorous animal living somewhere that inclement weather makes it hard to forage in winter. But that's not something that will be true of all bears.

Prehistoric Mammal Discoveries 2023

Potamotherium

It's the last post of the year for 2023, and that means it's time once again to take a brief look at discoveries from the last year in the world of fossil mammals that didn't make it into this blog. Because, while dinosaurs are undoubtedly popular, the study of prehistoric mammals is also a major field, aided by that, being (mostly) relatively recent they tend to be more numerous and better preserved. Of course, everyone's heard of woolly mammoths and sabretooth cats but there's plenty more out there and, if I'm going to zip through them at speed today, I'm also going to try and cover as wide a range as possible. So, let's get going...

Oligocene (Pt 5): The First Cats

Proailurus

As new herbivores entered Europe at the Grande Coupure, carnivores were bound to follow. As with their prey, these Asian newcomers seem to have rapidly outcompeted the native European forms, leading to a sudden turnover in the types of animals we find on the continent. Although we can say that these newcomers were "carnivorans" - the sort of mammalian carnivores we're mostly familiar with today - where exactly they place relative to the living families is harder to say.

Plesictis is an example here. It looked, so far as we can tell, rather like a polecat and was about the same size, so for much of the 20th century it was thought to be an early example of a mustelid, albeit one no more closely related to actual polecats than, say, badgers or otters are. More modern analyses are more circumspect; it may look like a mustelid in some respects, but it probably lived before those animals diverged from the raccoons and so can't be quite either. Palaeogale, which looked rather similar and was also originally assumed to be a mustelid, in fact turns out to be more related to cats and mongooses, but probably so far down the family tree that it's not yet possible to say much more than that.

Social Posting - Bear Style

Communication between animals is an important feature of all mammalian species. For those living in groups, it can help to maintain social bonds and provide urgent information, such as the unexpected arrival of a predator. If a mother has young, she may need to find them if they become lost or attend to them if are distressed, and so on. Even solitary adult animals need to communicate with others of their species, whether it be to mark out a territory and ensure that others don't poach their food source, or to find a mate at the appropriate time.

At least among mammals, there are two primary modes of communication that are generally studied by researchers. Perhaps the more obvious of these to we humans is vocal communication, since that's the main one we used in pre-literate societies. Not all species are especially vocal, but many are, and some are using sound outside of the human hearing range - such as the ultrasound squeaks of many small rodents such as mice. One estimate suggests that around 95% of mammal species use acoustic communication and this may be on the low side (it's 100% in birds and 90% in amphibians, but apparently less than 5% in reptiles, suggesting that it has evolved at least three times).

The Pandas of Bulgaria

The bear family as it exists today contains relatively few species. All but two of these species are placed in a single subfamily, the ursine bears, which includes the familiar black, brown, and polar varieties along with a couple of species unique to southern Asia. A second subfamily, the short-faced bears, includes the living spectacled bear of South America and several, often exceptionally large, fossil species. They are thought to have split from the ursine bears around 12 million years ago, towards the end of the Middle Miocene. The third living subfamily is both much older and more distinctive.

This, of course, is the subfamily of the pandas, the Ailuropodinae. Pandas are sufficiently odd that it was unclear for a time whether they were really bears, or something else, although their status hasn't really been in doubt since the 1980s when genetic evidence proved what had, even then, been suspected for a couple of decades. Today, only one species of ailuropodine exists, the giant panda (Ailuropoda melanoleuca), and it is found only in China. The same evidence used to estimate the split between the other living subfamilies puts the date of the split between pandas and other bears much further back, to around 20 million years ago, not long after the dawn of the Miocene. 

Why Polar Bears Still Make Dens

Hibernation is something that's generally associated with smaller animals, such as bats and rodents. It's likely to be a particularly useful trait for them, since they otherwise need to eat regularly to survive and this would be difficult in winter. Bears are a clear exception to this, snoozing away the winter despite being particularly large animals, and it seems that hibernation has been a key feature of their evolution for some time, distinguishing them from other carnivorans, such as wolves, that live in similar climes.

One of the first things we have to point out in this respect is that it isn't universally agreed by scientists that bears do, in fact, hibernate. This is obviously a debate about terminology, rather than the bear's actual behaviour, and it hinges on whether a bear's body temperature drops enough while it's denning for the activity to be truly considered as "hibernation". It seems fair to say that the usual tendency these days is to consider that what they're doing is close enough to count, but not everyone agrees. For today's purposes, however, I'm going to use what some might argue is a layman's understanding, rather than a strict biological term.

The Best Place to Den

Winter is a difficult time for many animals at high latitudes. Food is scarce, and the cold climate itself is a problem. Although many mammals do manage to keep going through the winter, others migrate to warmer climes, while many of those that don't hibernate instead. While this is by no means easy, for animals that can manage it, it allows them to preserve their energy, surviving off body fat without the need to search for food.

There has, historically, been some dispute as to whether bears truly hibernate or not. This is because the sort of undoubted hibernation practised by, say, bats, involves an almost total shutting down of normal metabolic functions with the animal effectively becoming cold-blooded for the duration. Bears do not do this; while they are asleep through the winter, their body temperature drops from a normal level of 37°C (99°F) to a low of 33°C (91°F). Now, this is not insignificant, since a human with a body temperature that low would be suffering from clinical hypothermia and in fairly urgent need of medical treatment. But still, you're not going to be so cold that dew literally starts forming on you, as happens with bats.

Miocene (Pt 18): Return of the Cats

Barbourofelis

For much of the Miocene, bears were represented in North America by the single genus Ursavus. This was relatively primitive, and small by the standards of modern bears, although still easily identifiable as such. It seems to have left no local descendants, but, around 7 or 8 million years ago, it was joined - and eventually replaced - by new arrivals from Asia.

The best known of these were Indarctos and Agriotherium, bears that were widespread across the Northern Hemisphere of the time, and common enough in both Asia and Europe. Indarctos was the smaller of the two, roughly the size of a black bear, and with what was probably a similarly omnivorous diet. It was likely more closely related to pandas than to other modern bears, and died out as the Miocene ended.

Prehistoric Mammal Discoveries of 2019

Nehalaennia, an 8 million-year-old rorqual
from the Netherlands, first described this year

As the year - and decade - approach their inevitable conclusion, it's time again to look back at a few palaeontological findings of 2019 that didn't, for whatever reason, make it into the regular Synapsida posts. As always, there is no theme to this list, just a sample of what seemed interesting linked only by when it happened to be published.

Miocene (Pt 14): Sabre-toothed Sea Otters

Ysengrinia

When bears first entered North America is really more a matter of definition than of our understanding of the fossil evidence. Going by what is probably the most common current definition, bears first appeared in Europe about 20 million years ago, in the form of Ursavus elmensis. Noticeably smaller than modern bears, this developed into a number of species across Europe and Asia, and to the closely related Ballusia in China.

Almost immediately, however, Ursavus also crossed into North America, probably arriving around 19 million years ago. It seems to have been far less common there than it was in Europe, with the local species, Ursavus pawniensis (there were probably others, but that's the only one we know of for sure) living in relatively small populations across the west, from Nebraska to Oregon and Saskatchewan. It doesn't appear to have left any descendants, being eventually replaced by more modern species of bear from Asia rather than evolving into anything uniquely American.

Miocene (Pt 8): Giant Honey Badgers and European Pandas

Indarctos

A great many predators lived in Europe in the glorious warmth of the Mid Miocene, when the continent was lush with subtropical vegetation and the herbivores that fed on it. As the climate began to turn, and the forests gave way to more open terrain, both the herbivores and the animals that preyed on them underwent a number of changes, with the latter in particular suffering some loss of diversity. (At least, so far as we can tell from the incomplete fossil record).

This affected the full gamut of mammalian carnivores, including many of the smaller, less obvious, ones. The boundary between the Middle and Late Miocene is an arbitrary one that isn't really marked by anything much in Europe, so that, to begin with, these were as numerous as ever. There were badgers, such as Sabadellictis, and even skunks, which today are not found outside the Americas.

Miocene (Pt 4): Bear-Dogs and Dog-Bears

Amphicyon

Many of the animals we would see in Early Miocene Europe, were we able to visit, would be of broadly recognisable types: deer, pigs, antelopes, rhinos, and elephant-like mastodons. True, many of these are nor animals we would expect to find in Europe today, and the individual species were, of course, different from the modern sort, and in some cases quite dramatically so. But they at least have identifiable relatives today.

But all of the animals I've just mentioned are herbivores. Yet, when it comes to the larger predators of the day, we instead find that most of them were rather different, lacking close modern relatives. While more recognisable carnivores did, in fact, turn up as the Miocene progressed, at least in the beginning, the majority were survivors from an even earlier time, before many modern kinds of animal had arisen.

Pliocene (Pt 9): Coyotes, Cats, and Spectacled Bears

A modern spectacled bear

When it comes to the extinct mammalian predators of North America, few are more famous than the sabretooth cat Smilodon, with the dire wolf likely coming a close second. But both of these animals lived during the Ice Ages, and, of course, with all those tasty horses, deer, and so forth wandering the steppe-lands of Pliocene North America, there were plenty of carnivores there before the Ice Ages began. Indeed, scary though Smilodon undoubtedly was, unless you're the kind of person that enjoys wrestling hungry tigers in the modern world, many of these others were probably quite dangerous enough.

But not, it has to be said, all of them - at least, from a human perspective. There were, as you might expect, many small carnivores in North America at the time, including badgers, weasels, skunks, raccoons and early wolverines and otters. While we can't know the details of their coat colours, it's quite likely that many of these creatures would have looked not too different from their modern relatives and possibly would have been hard to tell apart from them on casual inspection.

Of Moon Bears and Skunk Cabbages

One of the major debates in the study of human behaviour is that of "nature versus nurture". How much of what we do is the result of inbuilt tendencies and how much to the habitat we are raised in, including those things that we are taught? With non-human animals, the debate is, perhaps, less central, but there is still the question of inborn instinct versus learned behaviour.

Mammals being reasonably sophisticated animals, the possibility of some behaviour being learned - and moreover, of being learned socially, from other individuals, rather than by personal trial-and-error - is clearly one worth considering. For a great many behaviours in fact, there is going to be a bit of both; a mixture of instinct and learning.

For example, one of the things that most animals spend a large part of their time doing is searching for food. Much of the way that they do this is inborn. Cats, for instance, are born with the knowledge that anything that's small and scampering about is probably going to be tasty, and they instinctively know how to pounce on it, even if they have to practice to perfect the technique. On the other hand, social learning can also be important, both in determining what to eat, and where to find it. An example here is common marmosets, where the infants have been shown to avoid new and unfamiliar food unless an adult shows them that its safe to eat.