A SPONTANEOUS BARRAGE OF EXPLETIVES rang through the air, bringing my coworkers scrambling over the hill. Madagascar’s sweltering midday heat no longer mattered. There before me, beneath a clod of freshly dislodged sediment, were four shining teeth, exposed to the light of day for the first time in more than 65 million years. Most kids could have confirmed that these sharp, recurved, chocolate brown objects, each topped with fine serrations, once lined the mouth of a meat-eating dinosaur, a theropod. Best of all, these teeth were still attached to a jawbone. Further digging revealed a complete and undistorted jaw, with every tooth in place. Over the next couple of days we found more bones of the same, exceptionally preserved skull—part of the eye socket, another jaw with teeth, a gnarly bone from the nose region. Soon it became clear that most of the skull was buried here, although the individual bones had fallen apart and now lay strewn over several square meters. We could barely contain our excitement. Field paleontology relies as much on serendipity as on know-how and hard work, and the fates had smiled down upon us. Yet, as more and more bones of the ancient predator were unearthed, we began to get nervous. A key portion of the skull remained missing, leaving a mystery unsolved. <...>

Which dinosaur was the largest? What about the smallest? The oldest? These are questions that most children and quite a few adults have asked themselves. Answering such questions has never been easy, and doing so nowadays is even more troublesome. The science of paleontology is evolving at unprecedented speed. Constant discoveries are making many of our previously held beliefs outdated. Preventing one’s knowledge from becoming obsolete requires constant attention. New technology and the vast number of studies published each year suggest that a real revolution in dinosaur paleontology (dinosaurology) is occurring—so much so, that buying a book on dinosaurs published in 1995 is as useful to us today as having a look at a catalog of mobile phones from the year 2005.

In the first volume of this series, on theropod dinosaurs, readers were able to appreciate the surprising variety of forms and sizes in which this group of animals developed, from just a few grams to heavier than an African elephant. Some species are believed to have run very fast, some had incredibly powerful bite forces, and across all species there was extreme diversity in diet (most were carnivores, although others were phytophagous, pescivorous, insectivorous, or omnivorous) as well as modes of locomotion (on land, in water, and even in the air). And as we now know, dinosaurs are still among us; modern-day birds are the direct descendants of non-avian theropods.
This new volume is perhaps even more astounding, as it allows us to admire the largest land animals ever to walk the Earth. Some of them were almost as heavy as the largest whales in our oceans today, and a few were almost four times as tall as a giraffe. Even the most primitive of this group of dinosaurs, sauropodomorphs, were genuine record-breakers. <...>

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED to Bob Makela, a best friend for 20 years. He always managed to invent a way carefully to pry loose from the rocks the specimens or data I needed, and he was devoted to finding new ways to disseminate scientific information to children of all ages. Bob died in 1987 while working in the field, but his encouragement to others and his determination won't be forgotten. He was a truly exceptional man, and his memory remains with everyone who knew him. <...>

Endowed with colorful plumages and beautiful songs, birds in flight symbolize spirits released from the bondage of gravity. From the day that humans first looked up at the skies, birds have summoned a sense of wonder and mystery, enchanting our earthbound ancestors with their freedom and song. They fly where they please and when they please. The power of flight has opened up to birds a multilayered network of aerial highways and byways, enabling them to reach any place on our planet. They exhibit a wide variety of sizes, shapes, colors, and habits.

It is not much to document the origin of bird flight. Strictly speaking, these specimens are not the entire body of evidence. There are, of course, other fossil birds, not to mention bats, pterodactyls, and insects that have a few things to say about bird flight. And there are living creatures, mathematical models, and aerodynamic theories to help us understand this amazing evolutionary accomplishment. Nonetheless, these seven specimens are crucial. They lie at the heart of complex debates that began with the discovery of the first specimen of Archaeopteryx more than 130 years ago and continue up until today. These few, special fossils have served as the basis for brilliant deductions, wild speculations, penetrating analyses, and amazing insights. They have revealed—and continue to reveal—not only the pathway through which birds and bird flight may have originated, but they also tell us much about the strengths and weaknesses of science and scientists. <...>

“Romancing” refers to an ardent emotional attachment, and nowhere in paleontology does the term apply more aptly than to dinosaurs, which have long been an intense focus of almost every child’s fascination. But enchantment with the terrible lizards reached a crescendo with the 1993 Michael Crichton blockbuster movie Jurassic Park, featuring an amusement park of cloned dinosaurs, and the view that birds are living dinosaurs ascended from theory to an unchallengeable orthodoxy.

The scope of this book ranges widely, from biomolecular aspects of avian biology to details of the anatomy of dinosaurs. However, it is not just a simple compilation of current material. Its purpose is to help bridge a gap that has developed between those who study birds as fossils and those who study the living animals.

Most palaeontologists will tell you they arrived in their job because, as a child, they loved prehistoric creatures, particularly dinosaurs. They just never grew up – or at least they never stopped seeing a world filled with wonder and excitement. In that sense, I never grew up either. I never stopped being the little kid staring up in awe at the 32-metre-long fossil of ‘Dippy’ the Diplodocus that fills the vaulted Central Hall of London’s Natural History Museum.

Having grown up reading that birds were at most only distantly related to dinosaurs, I was both startled and fascinated when a growing number of researchers began to argue that birds were the direct descendants of the terrible lizards. At the end of the 1970s, I was becoming involved in the ar¬ gument both as an artist and a scientist. Art and science could not be separated; the science deter¬ mined whether I should adorn the small predatory dinosaurs with scales or with feathers. Alas, there was no simple answer at the time, because there was no fossil evidence for either possibility. What I found disturbing was that many paleontologists were totally biased against illustrating dinosaurs with feathers, even though the available data was neutral on the subject. This bias only boosted my interest in researching bird origins. <...>