Osteology Everywhere: Vertebeer Fest

This past weekend was witness to the Summer Beer Festival, the annual showcase of Michigan’s brewing splendor. Dozens of breweries brought out batches of beer, from classics we know and love, to inspired innovations meriting a MacArthur Fellowship. There was an embeerrassment of boozes. Dark Horse Brewing Company, from Marshall, MI, put on quite the show:

Dark  Horse Brewing Co. pumping out the brews and blasting t-shirts into the crowd.

Dark Horse Brewing Co. pumping out the brews and blasting t-shirts into the crowd.

Besides towering over the bacchanal hordes, the Dark Horse beer fort also offered IPAs infused with pretty much anything that might pair well with hops. They even steeped habañero peppers in one, and it was maximally boss.

Beer still my heart.

Beer still my heart.

Having sampled only a small part of rich the smorgasbord on tap, a rest by the river was in order. The Festival was on the banks of the mighty Huron River, an excellent place to sit and sip Arcadia‘s scotch ale, taking in the evening under cloud-peppered, cerulean skies. Such a calm and relaxing setting would surely offer respite for a brain besieged by bones. Right?

Every year for the Festival they replace the river water with beer.

Every year for the Festival they replace the river water with beer.

Wrong! Peering through beer goggles over the shimmer of the river, seeking signs of Bigfoots lurking on the opposite shore, I locked eyes with a large, wooden vertebral body.

No ordinary tree stump

An eyeless frown marks the ventral surface of this centrum.

The human spine is composed of anywhere from 31-34 vertebrae (not counting the coccyx or tail bone). The body or “centrum” is the large, blocky portion of the bone, which is separated from other such bodies by intervertebral discs; it is literally a pile of bodies, stacked one on top of the other. And the intervertebral discs are remnants of the notochord, the embryonic structure that unites you and me and all other humans with all other animals known as chordates. Anyway, kiss my grits if this old tree stump across the mighty Huron River here doesn’t look like a lower thoracic or upper lumbar vertebral body, the metaphoric shark fin of a giant trunkless human waiting to pounce from the placid waters.

a) Our mystery vertebra. b) a lumbar vertebra from White et al. (2012). c) views of the right and front side of the Australopithecus africanus fossil StW H41, from Sanders (1998, Fig. 1).

a) Our mystery river vertebra. b) a lumbar vertebra from White et al. (2012). c) views of the right and front side of the Australopithecus africanus fossil StW H8/H41, modified from Fig. 1 of Sanders (1998).

Thinking on it, our mystery river vertebra doesn’t just look like any old human centrum, it is a ringer for the second lumbar vertebra of StW H8/H41, a series of the 11th thoracic to 4th lumbar vertebrae of Australopithecus africanus from Sterkfontein (see the red arrow in c, above). Sanders (1998) notes that this short segment of an early hominin spine shows clear adaptation to walking upright like we humans do today, although the size of the vertebral bodies is both absolutely and relatively small compared to ours, just as is seen in other Australopithecus fossils.

And what better way to celebrate this monumental discovery than returning to the Beer Festival – hooray beer!

Osteology Everywhere: Barcade bone biology

I’ve fled the Central Asian steppe to visit my childhood home, Kansas City, Missouri.

The tortuous path from the center of Eursia to the center of the US, a mere 8500 miles since there are no direct flights. Map made by Wolfram Alpha.

The tortuous path from the center of Eursia to the center of the US, a mere 8500 miles since there are no direct flights. Map made by Wolfram Alpha.

It would be a lie to say I don’t miss life in this Midwest metropolis. Kansas City is sprawling, with diverse cultures, foods and festivities in far-flung neighborhoods. It’s always a trip to revisit the people and places of my formative years.

Of course, there are differences between now and when I was growing up. A whole new world of experiences became available to me here once I was old enough to drink (legally; this is long ago now). The bar scene itself has evolved over the past decade or so, arguably culminating in Up-Down, a grown-up video game arcade that will confusingly make you both happy and sad to have become an adult.

Be still my heart. Image credit.

I’ve never seen anything like this before. But even in this novel environment, I still couldn’t help but notice Osteology Everywhere. What appears at first glance to be an oversized Connect Four contraption . . .

Go for the bottom, go for the top.

Go for the bottom, go for the top.

. . . is in fact a closeup of trabecular bone (with my friend creepily peering through):

Section through a human proximal femur (hip joint). Note the trabecular or "spongy" bone filling the top, in comparison with the thick and dense cortical bone of the shaft in the bottom left. Image credit.

Vertical section through a human proximal femur (hip joint). Note the trabecular or “spongy” bone filling the top, in comparison with the thick and dense cortical bone of the shaft in the bottom left. Image credit.

And here, we’re not playing Skee Ball . . .

20150618_003612. . . we’re hurling wooden balls into Haversian canals and lacunae of osteons. For Science.

Cross section through cortical bone, magnified to highlight an osteon. The big hole in the center is the Haversian canal, and the smaller satellite holes are lacunae housing osteocytes.

Cross section through cortical bone, magnified to highlight an osteon. The big hole in the center is the Haversian canal, and the smaller satellite holes are lacunae housing osteocytes. Image credit.

So if you’re in the KC area, I highly recommend you check out Up-Down, where you can review osteology while also playing games and sipping a refreshing beer. Who knew learning could be so fun?

Osteology everywhere: Graffiti

Astana, the wedding-cake capital of Kazakhstan, is notably bereft of graffiti and street art, at least in my somewhat limited exposure to the city. The larval metropolis is all about commercial appearance, so I’d guess that aspiring street artists likely face much more than the Marge Simpson treatment for turning around to brag about their work.

Dire consequences await those who graffito tag public property.

Dire consequences await those who graffito tag public property.

Once, I did see a pretty badass street mural,

But it was in München.

but it was in München, a mere 2,620 miles from Astana.

No, there is not much in the way of secretly donated street art here in Astana, and there’s generally little hope to see graffiti-grafted Osteology Everywhere. But this weekend, I noticed these four magical letters, quickly quietly scrawled on the side of my apartment building:

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DAKA.

Two disconcerting thoughts immediately come to mind reading this. First, why the hell is “DAKA” written in Latin instead of Cyrillic script characteristic of the FSU? Second, what does “DAKA” mean out here? Nothing in Russian so far as I know, but Google Translate claims it could mean “Dakar” in Kazakh, which if true raises even more questions.

No, the safest assumption is that this tagger, my streetwise and marker-wielding dopplegänger, was referring to the ~1 million year old Homo erectus partial skull from Ethiopia, dubbed “Daka” after the Dakanihylo site of its discovery.

The Daka calvaria (Figure 2. of Asfaw et al., 2002). Counterclockwise from the top left: view from the back, view from the top (front is to the left), view from the left, a mosquito net, view from the bottom (front is at the top), viewed from the front.

BOU-VP-2/66, the Daka calvaria* (Figure 2. of Asfaw et al., 2002). Counterclockwise from the top left: view from the back, view from the top (front is to the left), view from the left, a mosquito net, view from the bottom (front is at the top), and view from the front. *Calvaria is the fancy word for ‘bony skull without a face.’

Daka isn’t the first hominin fossil to be embraced outside of anthropology. A few years ago I noticed the 4.4 million year old Ardipithecus ramidus skeleton strutting across the label of a Dogfish Head beer bottle:

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GOODGRIEF, this was almost 5 years ago.

In downtown Tbilisi, Georgia I recently spotted a Dmanisi-based duo whose tech savvy belies the fact they’re based on 1.8 million year old fossils:

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(Let’s not forget this one, from before they got smartphones)

We’ll have to do some serious fossil-finding here in Kazakhstan before they’ll let anyone put up something this awesome on the side of anything here in Astana. (Or wait…)

ARDIPITHECUS BEER!!!

I just made what what may be the most amazing discovery of the century at a local booze emporium. Dogfish Head brewing company makes a beer whose label is adorned with Jay Matternes’s reconstruction of an upright Ardipithecus ramidus. Note that the left foot grasps the earth with it’s ape-like big toe.

In a whimsical use of artistic license, whoever adopted this image added a curlicue pig’s tail. In animals with a tail, a number of caudal vertebrae continue off the set of fused vertebrae called the sacrum. Humans and other apes don’t have true tails but a coccyx, a small clump of tiny, fused vertebral segments. Our tail vestige may not help us hang onto trees like in Ateline monkeys, or sting our enemies like a scorpion, but the coccyx is still pretty important. In people this evolutionary memory of a tail anchors some muscles of the pelvic floor (including sphincter ani externus and levator ani), which are critical for the to control of our bowels.

Below is a close up of the Ardipithecus ramidus pelvis fossils (from White et al. 2009, fig. 3). No coccyx was discovered for Ardi, and little is said about the sacrum, other than that it’s merely broken piece of the end of the bone (Lovejoy et al. 2009). Nevertheless, I’m sure this end of sacrum would lead one to reject this artist’s hypothesis that Ardipithecus had a tail.

Had I been in charge of labeling at Dogfish Head, the beer would’ve been called “Party-pithecus” instead of “namaste,” and this label would’ve been slapped on some exotic IPA or porter instead of a wheat beer. Still pretty awesome, though.

Learn about Ardi and its pelvis
Lovejoy, C., Suwa, G., Spurlock, L., Asfaw, B., & White, T. (2009). The Pelvis and Femur of Ardipithecus ramidus: The Emergence of Upright Walking Science, 326 (5949), 71-71 DOI: 10.1126/science.1175831

White, T., Asfaw, B., Beyene, Y., Haile-Selassie, Y., Lovejoy, C., Suwa, G., & WoldeGabriel, G. (2009). Ardipithecus ramidus and the Paleobiology of Early Hominids Science, 326 (5949), 64-64 DOI: 10.1126/science.1175802

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