CANADA'S FIRST SABRE-TOOTHED CAT: SMILODON

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

"Rufus" was a thoroughly charming storyteller and shared many of his adventures from the field. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

FINDING SMILODON AMONGST THE BONES

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. 

Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

SMILODON: SABER-TOOTHED CAT

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. 

It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

An apex predator, Smilodon used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. 

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

Illustration. S. fatalis with spotted coat. By Dantheman9758 at English Wikipedia, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42290827

CANADA'S SMILODON

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

"Rufus" was a thoroughly charming storyteller and shared many of his adventures from the field. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

SMILODON NORTH OF THE 49TH PARALLEL

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

"Rufus" was a thoroughly charming storyteller and shared many of his adventures from the field. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

TEETH, CLAWS & HUNGER: SMILODON

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat and claws getting the upper hand in this fight is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. 

Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

"Rufus" was a thoroughly charming storyteller and shared many of his adventures from the field. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

The images above are the work of the extremely talented Daniel Eskridge. To see more of his work visit his site at: https://daniel-eskridge.pixels.com/

SMILODON MAKES A COME BACK

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

"Rufus" was a thoroughly charming storyteller and shared many of his adventures from the field. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

FINDING SMILODON AMONGST THE BONES

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. 

Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

CANADA'S SMILODON

This fierce predator with the luxurious coat is Smilodon fatalis — a compact but robust killer that weighed in around 160 to 280 kg and was 1.5 - 2.2 metres long.

Smilodon is a genus of the extinct machairodont subfamily of the felids. It is one of the most famous prehistoric mammals and the best known saber-toothed cat. Although commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, it was not closely related to the tiger or other modern cats.

Up until a few years ago, all the great fossil specimens of this apex predator were found south of us in the United States. That was until some interesting bones from Medicine Hat, Alberta got a second look.

A few years ago, a fossil specimen caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the collections at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. 

Back in the 1960s,  University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team had collected and donated more than 1,200 specimens from their many field seasons scouring the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat, Alberta.

Churcher is a delightful storyteller and a palaeontologist with a keen eye. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at the University of British Columbia and a few Vancouver Paleontological Society meetings in the mid-2000s. 

"Rufus" was a thoroughly charming storyteller and shared many of his adventures from the field. 

He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement, first to Gabriola Island then to Victoria, but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats saw a familiar-looking bone from an ancient cat's right front paw. That tiny paw bone had reached through time and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon.

These Apex Predators used their exceptionally long upper canine teeth to hunt large mammals. 

Isotopes preserved in the bones of S. fatalis in the La Brea Tar Pits in California tell us that they liked to dine on bison (Bison antiquus) and camels (Camelops) along with deer and tapirs. Smilodon is thought to have killed its prey by holding it still with its forelimbs and biting it. And that was quite the bite!

Their razor-sharp incisors were arranged in an arch. Once they bit down, the teeth would hold their prey still and stabilize it while the canine bite was delivered — and what a bite that was. They could open their mouths a full 120 degrees.

Smilodon died out at the same time that most North and South American megafauna disappeared, about 10,000 years ago. Its reliance on large animals has been proposed as the cause of its extinction, along with climate change and competition with other species. 

SMILODON FATALIS

During the last ice age, huge cats bigger than an African lion prowled Alberta, including the fearsome beast commonly known as the sabre-toothed tiger.

The proper name for the extinct predator with foot-long, serrated knife-like canines is Smilodon fatalis.

Up until the discovery of the fossil from Medicine Hat, Alberta, the species had never been found further north than Idaho. Or so it was thought...

A few years ago, a few small fossils caught the eye of researcher Ashley Reynolds as she was rummaging through the drawers at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. The drawer was part of a treasure trove of 1,200 specimens collected in the 1960s by University of Toronto palaeontologist C.S. Churcher and his team. The specimens were collected over many field seasons along the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan River near Medicine Hat.

Churcher was a palaeontologist with a keen eye and a delightful man. I had the very great pleasure of listening to many of his talks out at UBC and at a few VanPS meetings in the mid-2000s. "Rufus" was a thoroughly charming storyteller and shared many of his adventures from the field. He moved out to the West Coast for his retirement but his keen love of the science kept him giving talks to enthralled listeners keen to hear about his survey of the Dakhleh Oasis in the Western Desert of Egypt, geomorphology, stratigraphy, recent biology, Pleistocene and Holocene lithic cultures, insights learned from Neolithic Islamic pottery to Roman settlements.

The specimens he had collected had been roughly sorted but never examined in detail. Reynolds, who was researching the growth patterns and life histories of extinct cats by looking at their bones, decided to look more carefully at the fossils Churcher had found, keen to add them to her research. And what a find she made!

One of the fossils labelled Smilodon was too small a piece to be identified. But another, a bone from the ancient cat's right front paw, was identical to other Smilodon bones and was positively identified as Canada's first Smilodon. CBC did a nice write up on her discoveries. 

References:
https://www.cbc.ca/n…/technology/sabre-toothed-cat-1.5305505

ANCIENT AMBUSH KILLER: MACHAIRODUS

Saber-Toothed Cat, Machairodus aphanistus

The skull before you lies cradled in a glass case at the Museo Nacional de Ciencias Naturales in Madrid, Spain.

This museum—one of my most cherished anywhere in the world—houses extraordinary treasures in the heart of a city I adore.

Even at a distance, the skull seems almost unreal, its sweeping lines and lethal symmetry more like an artifact of myth than a product of natural selection.

The upper canines of Machairodus aphanistus sweep downward in a deadly curve, their bases thick and reinforced, their blades tapering into elegant, murderous crescents. 

Grooves along their sides lighten the teeth without robbing them of strength, an evolutionary compromise that allowed this ancient predator to deliver precise, slicing blows. The zygomatic arches flare outward with commanding confidence, a testament to the enormous jaw muscles that once powered the bite. Even the wide nasal opening hints at a creature ruled by scent, finely attuned to the faintest whispers of prey on a warm Miocene wind.

This skull—stripped of flesh, muscle, and fur—remains a vivid record of a predator that walked the Earth between nine and five million years ago, long before the saber-toothed icons of the Americas made their mark. 

Machairodus aphanistus lived in the shifting landscapes of the Late Miocene, a time when Europe and western Asia were giving way to broader grasslands and open woodlands. Forest canopies receded. Herds grew larger and faster. Predators had to adapt or perish, and Machairodus responded with a design both beautiful and deadly.

Unlike its more famous descendant, Smilodon, with its compact body and powerful forelimbs, Machairodus moved with the grace of a panther. It was long-limbed and athletic, relying on bursts of speed and stealth to launch an ambush. But its skull tells a more nuanced story—one of tension between speed and specialization. The tall sagittal crest reveals a powerhouse of jaw muscles anchoring deep into the bone. 

The forward-facing orbits provide the stereoscopic vision needed to track prey with extraordinary accuracy. The sheer length of the canines required a jaw capable of opening nearly ninety degrees, a gape far wider than that of any modern cat, allowing those great blades to descend unobstructed into vulnerable regions like the throat.

You will be relieved to hear that our ancestors did not hunt and were not hunted by this impressive predator. Machairodus aphanistus went extinct in the Late Miocene, roughly 5–9 million years ago.

The earliest members of the human lineage (Homo) did not appear until about 2.8 million years ago, in the early Pleistocene. Even our more ancient relatives—Australopithecines—don’t show up until 4–4.5 million years ago.

So there is a gap of millions of years between the disappearance of Machairodus and the emergence of anything that could be considered human or human-adjacent. For that, I think we can all breath a collective sigh.

Still, others were alive on the plains that were their hunting grounds. Both hunters and prey.

In the warm, open savannas of the Miocene, the world of Machairodus was alive with competition. Packs of early hyenas honed their bone-crushing skills. Bear-dogs patrolled the river valleys. Other machairodonts—kin, rivals, or both—shared the same hunting grounds. 

The herbivores were just as diverse: early horses galloped across the plains in tight herds, while rhinocerotids, camelids, and horned antelope moved in cautious groups, ever aware of shadows that shifted in the tall grass. To survive in this dynamic ecosystem, Machairodus embraced an ambush strategy refined over countless generations. It would stalk silently, using shrubs, boulders, or dim forest edges for cover. 

When the distance closed, it lunged with explosive force, using its muscular forelimbs to pin or destabilize its prey before delivering a swift, slicing bite to the neck. Death came quickly—less by crushing force and more by catastrophic blood loss.

There is a sense, looking at its skull that you are seeing an evolutionary idea mid-transformation.

Machairodus aphanistus stands at a pivotal moment in the story of the saber-toothed cats. Its body remained agile and panther-like, but its cranial features were edging ever closer to the extreme adaptations that would define later giants like Homotherium and Smilodon. It represents a crucial chapter in which nature was experimenting, refining, and pushing the boundaries of what a predator could become.

The skull contains all of this history within its bone: the open grasslands, the pounding hooves of prey, the quiet tension of ambush, and the relentless arms race that shaped predator and prey alike. 

In its silence, it speaks. It tells of a world both familiar and wild, a world where the line between beauty and brutality was sharpened to a sabre’s edge.

ANCIENT AMBUSH KILLER: MACHAIRODUS

Saber-Toothed Cat, Machairodus aphanistus

The skull before you lies cradled in a glass case at the Museo Nacional de Ciencias Naturales in Madrid, Spain.

This museum—one of my most cherished anywhere in the world—houses extraordinary treasures in the heart of a city I adore.

Even at a distance, the skull seems almost unreal, its sweeping lines and lethal symmetry more like an artifact of myth than a product of natural selection.

The upper canines of Machairodus aphanistus sweep downward in a deadly curve, their bases thick and reinforced, their blades tapering into elegant, murderous crescents. 

Grooves along their sides lighten the teeth without robbing them of strength, an evolutionary compromise that allowed this ancient predator to deliver precise, slicing blows. The zygomatic arches flare outward with commanding confidence, a testament to the enormous jaw muscles that once powered the bite. Even the wide nasal opening hints at a creature ruled by scent, finely attuned to the faintest whispers of prey on a warm Miocene wind.

This skull—stripped of flesh, muscle, and fur—remains a vivid record of a predator that walked the Earth between nine and five million years ago, long before the saber-toothed icons of the Americas made their mark. 

Machairodus aphanistus lived in the shifting landscapes of the Late Miocene, a time when Europe and western Asia were giving way to broader grasslands and open woodlands. Forest canopies receded. Herds grew larger and faster. Predators had to adapt or perish, and Machairodus responded with a design both beautiful and deadly.

Unlike its more famous descendant, Smilodon, with its compact body and powerful forelimbs, Machairodus moved with the grace of a panther. It was long-limbed and athletic, relying on bursts of speed and stealth to launch an ambush. But its skull tells a more nuanced story—one of tension between speed and specialization. The tall sagittal crest reveals a powerhouse of jaw muscles anchoring deep into the bone. 

The forward-facing orbits provide the stereoscopic vision needed to track prey with extraordinary accuracy. The sheer length of the canines required a jaw capable of opening nearly ninety degrees, a gape far wider than that of any modern cat, allowing those great blades to descend unobstructed into vulnerable regions like the throat.

You will be relieved to hear that our ancestors did not hunt and were not hunted by this impressive predator. Machairodus aphanistus went extinct in the Late Miocene, roughly 5–9 million years ago.

The earliest members of the human lineage (Homo) did not appear until about 2.8 million years ago, in the early Pleistocene. Even our more ancient relatives—Australopithecines—don’t show up until 4–4.5 million years ago.

So there is a gap of millions of years between the disappearance of Machairodus and the emergence of anything that could be considered human or human-adjacent. For that, I think we can all breath a collective sigh.

Still, others were alive on the plains that were their hunting grounds. Both hunters and prey.

In the warm, open savannas of the Miocene, the world of Machairodus was alive with competition. Packs of early hyenas honed their bone-crushing skills. Bear-dogs patrolled the river valleys. Other machairodonts—kin, rivals, or both—shared the same hunting grounds. 

The herbivores were just as diverse: early horses galloped across the plains in tight herds, while rhinocerotids, camelids, and horned antelope moved in cautious groups, ever aware of shadows that shifted in the tall grass. To survive in this dynamic ecosystem, Machairodus embraced an ambush strategy refined over countless generations. It would stalk silently, using shrubs, boulders, or dim forest edges for cover. 

When the distance closed, it lunged with explosive force, using its muscular forelimbs to pin or destabilize its prey before delivering a swift, slicing bite to the neck. Death came quickly—less by crushing force and more by catastrophic blood loss.

There is a sense, looking at its skull that you are seeing an evolutionary idea mid-transformation.

Machairodus aphanistus stands at a pivotal moment in the story of the saber-toothed cats. Its body remained agile and panther-like, but its cranial features were edging ever closer to the extreme adaptations that would define later giants like Homotherium and Smilodon. It represents a crucial chapter in which nature was experimenting, refining, and pushing the boundaries of what a predator could become.

The skull contains all of this history within its bone: the open grasslands, the pounding hooves of prey, the quiet tension of ambush, and the relentless arms race that shaped predator and prey alike. 

In its silence, it speaks. It tells of a world both familiar and wild, a world where the line between beauty and brutality was sharpened to a sabre’s edge.

FOSSIL FELINES: MOZART

Mister Mozart

Cats—those purring enigmas who act like they invented gravity and disdain—have been perfecting their aloof charm for tens of millions of years. 

Long before domestic life on the couch, they prowled prehistoric forests and savannas, already masters of stealth.

The feline family tree begins about 25 million years ago with the Proailurus, whose name literally means “first cat.” 

This Miocene-era predator lived in Europe and Asia and probably looked like your housecat—if your housecat could take down small deer. 

Proailurus gave rise to the Pseudaelurus, the cat that would eventually split into two great evolutionary lineages: the big cats (Pantherinae, including lions, tigers, and leopards) and the small cats (Felinae, which include your couch companion, Felis catus), and snuggle bunnies like Mister Mozart you see here.

By the Pleistocene, cats had diversified spectacularly—from the legendary Smilodon, the sabre-toothed showstopper of Ice Age fame, to the lithe wildcats that would one day move into our granaries, charm our ancestors, and domesticate us. 

Yes, evidence suggests that around 10,000 years ago, humans didn’t so much tame cats as cats decided that humans were helpful enough to tolerate. A trend that continues to this day. 

Their fossils—sleek jaws, retractable claws, and the occasional pawprint—tell a story of evolutionary precision. Cats didn’t just evolve; they optimised. Every leap, pounce, and inscrutable stare has been honed by millions of years of predatory perfection.

So when your cat knocks your favourite mug off the counter and looks smug about it, remember: you’re gazing into the eyes of a finely tuned Miocene hunter. Evolution, it seems, has a sense of humour—and a soft spot for whiskers.

Kane & Mozart divving up the best bed spots

Despite centuries of cartoon propaganda suggesting otherwise, cats and dogs can form some of the most endearing interspecies friendships in the animal kingdom. 

While their social codes differ—dogs being pack-oriented and demonstrative, cats favouring solitary stealth and subtlety—mutual respect (and occasionally a shared sunny spot or prime position on your bed) often bridges the divide. 

Studies in animal behaviour show that early socialisation, body language recognition, and individual temperament play key roles in fostering harmony between felines and canines. 

A confident cat and a calm, well-socialised dog are a recipe for peaceful coexistence—and sometimes, genuine affection. Watching a cat gently groom a dog’s ears or a Ridgeback stoically endure a kitten’s playful ambush brings a smile to us all. Evolution may have set them on different paths, but friendship, it seems, is a universal instinct.

FOSSIL FELINES: MISTER MOZART

Mister Mozart

Cats—those purring enigmas who act like they invented gravity and disdain—have been perfecting their aloof charm for tens of millions of years. 

Long before domestic life on the couch, they prowled prehistoric forests and savannas, already masters of stealth.

The feline family tree begins about 25 million years ago with the Proailurus, whose name literally means “first cat.” 

This Miocene-era predator lived in Europe and Asia and probably looked like your housecat—if your housecat could take down small deer. 

Proailurus gave rise to the Pseudaelurus, the cat that would eventually split into two great evolutionary lineages: the big cats (Pantherinae, including lions, tigers, and leopards) and the small cats (Felinae, which include your couch companion, Felis catus), and snuggle bunnies like Mister Mozart you see here.

By the Pleistocene, cats had diversified spectacularly—from the legendary Smilodon, the sabre-toothed showstopper of Ice Age fame, to the lithe wildcats that would one day move into our granaries, charm our ancestors, and domesticate us. 

Yes, evidence suggests that around 10,000 years ago, humans didn’t so much tame cats as cats decided that humans were helpful enough to tolerate. A trend that continues to this day. 

Their fossils—sleek jaws, retractable claws, and the occasional pawprint—tell a story of evolutionary precision. Cats didn’t just evolve; they optimised. Every leap, pounce, and inscrutable stare has been honed by millions of years of predatory perfection.

So when your cat knocks your favourite mug off the counter and looks smug about it, remember: you’re gazing into the eyes of a finely tuned Miocene hunter. Evolution, it seems, has a sense of humour—and a soft spot for whiskers.

Kane & Mozart divving up the best bed spots

Despite centuries of cartoon propaganda suggesting otherwise, cats and dogs can form some of the most endearing interspecies friendships in the animal kingdom. 

While their social codes differ—dogs being pack-oriented and demonstrative, cats favouring solitary stealth and subtlety—mutual respect (and occasionally a shared sunny spot or prime position on your bed) often bridges the divide. 

Studies in animal behaviour show that early socialisation, body language recognition, and individual temperament play key roles in fostering harmony between felines and canines. 

A confident cat and a calm, well-socialised dog are a recipe for peaceful coexistence—and sometimes, genuine affection. Watching a cat gently groom a dog’s ears or a Ridgeback stoically endure a kitten’s playful ambush brings a smile to us all. Evolution may have set them on different paths, but friendship, it seems, is a universal instinct.

DINOSAUR GEORGE PODCAST

Recently, I had the very great pleasure of chatting with the deeply awesome "Dinosaur George" Blasting for his Dinosaur George Podcast. We talked about fossil sites of the Pacific Northwest, what's cool in paleontology, new fossil discoveries, finds that have made me cry and hunting ammonites (while getting shot at) in Alberta, Canada.

George is the host of the Dinosaur George Podcast. And, as one might expect, it is devoted entirely to paleontology and the natural sciences. In each episode, he and a guest explore what paleontologists do, what area of research or discovery lights them up, how they know what kind of fossil they have found and share personal stories from the field. If you're interested in learning more about paleontology, I highly recommend it.

Dinosaur George interviews some of the most interesting cats in paleo. Evolutionary Biologist, Dr. Devin O'Brien was on recently talking about canine teeth of our beloved saber-tooth-cat, Smilodon. Paleo-artist, Eric Warren shared about his craft which is a mix of science with pure-hearted creativity, and Dr. Dave Hone waxed poetic about pterosaurs. The podcast promises a veritable who's who in paleontology eager to share their love of fossils, along with stories of their very best and very worst days in the field.

Give it a listen. I'm hugely biased (we love George) but I'm not alone. The Dinosaur George Podcast just made the Top 5 Podcasts of all time. I'll pop a live link here: http://www.dinosaurgeorgepodcast.com/