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VELIKOVSKIAN                                                                                                                           Vol. 1, No. 4

Giants in the Earth
By Ted Holden

Most of the evidence being presented in support of the Saturn Myth concept is either historical and heavily dependent upon interpretations of mythological and classical themes, or of a highly theoretical nature (e.g. Lynn E. Rose's explanation for the Tethys Sea).  Do we have any more concrete evidence, any real way of knowing or of proving that the Saturn Myth scenario is actually required for any of the physical evidence of past ages?  I believe that we do, that a careful study of the sizes of antediluvian creatures and of what it would take to deal with such sizes in our world--the felt effect of gravity being what it is now--indicates that something was massively different in the world which these creatures inhabited.  I believe that something like the Saturn Myth is positively required to explain what turns up upon such a careful investigation and that there are, at least, four categories of evidence which suggest that the super animals of Earth's past could not live in our present world at all, due to what must have been a change in perceived gravity.

A look at sauropod dinosaurs as we know them today requires that we relegate the brontosaur, once thought to be one of the largest sauropods, to welterweight or, at most, middleweight status.  Fossil finds dating from the 1970s dwarf him.  The Field Guide to Dinosaurs.  The First Complete Guide to Every Dinosaur Now Known shows a brachiosaur (larger than a brontosaur), a supersaur and an ultrasaur juxtaposed, and the ultrasaur dwarfs the others. [1]  Christopher McGowan's Dinosaurs, Spitfires, & Sea Dragons cites a 180-ton weight estimate for the ultrasaur, [2] and describes the volume-based methods of estimating dinosaur weights. [3] McGowan is Curator of Vertebrate Paleontology at the Royal Ontario Museum.

This same look requires that dinosaur lifting requirements be compared to human lifting capabilities.  One objection which might be raised to this would be that animal muscle tissue was somehow "better" than that of humans.  This, however, is known to not be the case; for instance, in Scaling: Why is Animal Size So Important Knut Schmidt-Nielsen says

It appears that the maximum force or stress that can be exerted by any muscle is inherent in the structure of the muscle filaments.  The maximum force is roughly a 3 [kgf/ cm2 (kilograms of force per centimeter squared)] to 4 kgf/ cm2 cross-section of muscle (300 [kN/ m2 (kiloNewtons per meter squared) to] 400 kN/ m2).  This force is body-size independent and is the same for mouse and elephant muscle.  The reason for this uniformity is that the dimensions of the thick and thin muscle filaments, and also the number of cross-bridges between them are the same.  In fact, the structures of mouse muscle and elephant muscle [are] so similar that a microscopist would have difficulty identifying them except for a larger number of mitochondria in the smaller animal.  This uniformity in maximum force holds not only for higher vertebrates, but for many other organisms, including at least some, but not all invertebrates.[4]

Another objection might be that sauropods were aquatic creatures.  Nobody believes that anymore; they had no adaptation for aquatic life, their teeth show wear and tear which does not come from eating soft aquatic vegetation, and trackways show them walking on land with no difficulty.

A final objection would be that dinosaurs were somehow more "efficient" than top human athletes.  This, however, goes against all observed data.  As creatures get bulkier, they become less efficient; the layers of thick muscle in limbs begin to get in each other's way and bind to some extent.  For this reason, scaled lifts (a lift record divided by the two-thirds power of the athlete's body weight) for the super-heavyweight athletes are somewhat lower than for, say, the 200-pound athletes.

As creatures get larger, weight, which is proportional to volume, goes up in proportion to the cube of the increase in dimension.  Strength, however, is known to be roughly proportional to the cross-section of muscle for any particular limb, which is similar to πr2, and goes up in proportion to the square of the increase in dimension.  This is the familiar "square-cube" problem.  The normal inverse operator for this is to divide by the 2/3 power of body weight; this is the normal scaling factor for all weight-lifting events, i. e., it lets us tell if a 200-pound athlete has actually done a "better" lift than the champion of the 180-pound group.  For athletes weighing between 160 pounds and 220 pounds, i. e., whose bodies are fairly similar, these scaled lift numbers line up very nicely.  A lift for a scaled up version of one particular athlete can be computed via this formula, since the similarity will be perfect, scaling being the only difference.

Consider the case of Bill Kazmaier, the king of the power lifters in the 1970s and 1980s.  Power lifters are, in my estimation, the strongest of all athletes; they concentrate on the three most difficult total-body lifts, i. e., benchpress, squat, and deadlift.  They work out many hours a day and use anabolic steroids to flavor their foods.  No animal the same weight as one of these men could be presumed to be as strong.  Kazmaier was able to do squats and deadlifts with weights between 1,000 pounds and 1,100 pounds on a bar, assuming he was fully warmed up.


The first of the four categories of evidence mentioned above is that any animal has to be able to lift its own weight off the ground, i. e., stand up, with no more difficulty than Kazmaier experiences doing a 1,000-pound squat.  Consider, however, what would happen to Mr. Kazmaier if he were scaled up to 70,000 pounds, the weight commonly given for the brontosaur.  Kazmaier's maximum effort at standing, fully warmed up, assuming the 1,000-pound squat, was 1,340 pounds (1,000 pounds for the bar and 340 pounds for himself).  The scaled maximum lift would be the solution to 1,340/ 340.667  =  x/ 70,000.667, where x=47,558 pounds.  He would not be able to lift his weight off the ground!

A sauropod dinosaur had four legs.  What happens if Mr. Kazmaier uses arms and legs at 70,000 pounds?  The squat uses almost every muscle in the athlete's body very nearly to the limits, but, in this case, it does not matter.  A near maximum benchpress effort for Mr. Kazmaier would be close to 600 pounds.  This merely changes the 1,340 pounds to 1,940 pounds in the equation above, and the answer comes out as 68,853 pounds.  Even using all muscles, some more than once, the strongest man we know anything about would not be able to lift his own weight off the ground at 70,000 pounds!

To believe, then, that a brontosaur could stand at 70,000 pounds, one has to believe that a creature whose weight was mostly gut plus the vast digestive mechanism involved in processing huge amounts of low-value foodstuffs was, somehow, stronger than an almost entirely muscular creature its size, far better trained and conditioned than any grazing animals.  That is not only ludicrous in the case of the brontosaur, but the calculations only get more confusing when you begin trying to scale upwards to the supersaur and ultrasaur, at their sizes.

How heavy can an animal still get to be in our world, then?  How heavy would Mr. Kazmaier be at the point at which the square-cube problem made it as difficult for him to stand up as it is for him to do 1,000-pound squats at his present weight of 340 pounds?  The answer lies in the solution to 1,340/ 340.667 = x/ x.667, or (using Newton's process) 20,803 pounds.  In reality, elephants do not appear to get quite to that point.  McGowan claims that a Toronto Zoo specimen was the largest in North America at 14,300 pounds[5] and Smithsonian personnel once informed me that the gigantic bush elephant specimen which appears at their Museum of Natural History weighed around 8 tons.


A second category of evidence arises from the study of the necks of sauropod dinosaurs.  Scientists who study sauropod dinosaurs are now claiming that they held their heads low, because they could not have gotten blood to their brains had they held them high.  McGowan goes into this in detail.  He mentions that a giraffe's blood pressure, at 200 mm Hg (millimeters of mercury) to 300 mm Hg, far higher than that of any other animal, would probably rupture the vascular system of any other animal and is maintained by thick arterial walls and by a very tight skin which apparently acts like a jet pilot's pressure suit.  A giraffe's head might reach to 20 feet.[6] The real question is how a sauropod might have gotten blood to its brain at 50 feet or 60 feet.

Two articles mentioning this problem appeared in Natural History.  In the first article, Harvey B. Lillywhite notes that

 in a Barosaurus with its head held high, the heart had to work against a gravitational pressure of about 590 [millimeters of mercury].  In order for the heart to eject blood into the arteries of the neck, its pressure must exceed that of the blood pushing against the opposite side of the outflow valve.  Moreover, some additional pressure would have been needed to overcome the resistance of smaller vessels within the head for blood flow to meet the requirements for brain and facial tissues.  Therefore, [Baurosaurus hearts] must have generated pressures at least six times greater than those of humans and three to four times greater than those of giraffes.[7]

In the same issue, Peter Dodson mentions that Brachiosaurus was built like a giraffe and may have fed like one.  But most sauropods were built quite differently.  At the base of the neck, a sauropod's vertebral spines, unlike those of a giraffe, were weak and low and did not provide leverage for the muscles required to elevate the head in a high position.  Furthermore, the blood pressure required to pump blood up to the brain, [30 feet] or more ... in the air, would have placed extraordinary demands on the heart ... and would, seemingly, have placed the animal at severe risk of a stroke, an aneurism, or some other circulatory disaster.  If sauropods fed with the neck extended just a little above heart level, say from ground level up to [15] feet, the blood pressure required would have been far more reasonable.[8]

Dodson is neglecting what appears to be a dilemma in the case of the brachiosaur, but there are at least two greater dilemmas here.  One is that the good leaves were, in all likelihood, above the 20-foot mark; holding his head out at 20 feet, an ultrasaur would probably starve.  The other is that sauropods would be unable to hold their heads out horizontally.

The volume-based techniques which McGowan and others use can estimate weight for a sauropod's neck, given a scale model and a weight figure for the entire dinosaur.  An ultrasaur is generally thought to be a near cousin of the brachiosaur, if not a very large brachiosaur specimen.  The technique, then is to measure the volume of water which the sauropod's neck (severed at the shoulders and filled with bondo (auto-body putty)) displaces versus the volume which the entire brachiosaur displaces and extrapolate to the 360,000-pound figure for the ultrasaur.  I did this using a Larami Corporation model of a brachiosaur which is to scale.  The neck, from its center to the shoulders, weighs 28,656 pounds, and the center of gravity of that neck is 15 feet, from the shoulders forward, the neck itself being 38 feet long.  This equates to 429,850 foot-pounds of torque.

Assume that any living creature has to be able to lift its head at least as easily as a human with 17-inch biceps does one-armed curls with a 60-pound dumbbell.  The working assumption is that a cross-section of arm is proportional to torque.  Simple calculations, assuming the human arm to be circular, show that the human requires an arm 35 feet in diameter to deal with 430,000 foot-pounds of torque.  The ultrasaur's neck, at the very widest point, where it joined the shoulders, appears to have been close to 10 feet by 6 feet, and it would be generous to assume a 6-foot diameter (for strength calculations) throughout.  Strength being proportional to the square of the radius, we see that the sauropod could not have had the musculature to deal with his own neck due to a ratio of 32 to 17.52, or about 34 to one.

McGowan and others claim that the head and neck were supported by a dorsal ligament and not by muscles, but real-life experience does not show us any example of a living creature using ligaments to support a body structure which its available musculature could not sustain at a ratio of 34 to one.

And so, sauropods (in our gravity) could neither hold their heads up nor out.


A third category of evidence arises from studies of creatures which flew in antediluvian times and of creatures which fly now.

In the antediluvian world, 350-pound flying creatures soared in skies which no longer permit flying creatures above 30 pounds or so.  Modern birds of prey (the Argentinean teratorn) weighing between 170 pounds and 200 pounds, with 30-foot wingspans, also flew.  Within recorded history, Central Asians have been trying to breed hunting eagles for size and strength, not getting them beyond 25 pounds or so.  At that point, they are able to take off only with the greatest of difficulty.  Something was vastly different in the pre-flood world.

Nothing much larger than 30 pounds or so flies anymore, and those creatures, albatrosses and a few of the largest condors and eagles, are marginal.  Albatrosses are called "goonie birds" by sailors because of the extreme difficulty they experience taking off and landing, their landings being badly controlled crashes--and this despite long wings made for maximum lift.

In remote times, a lesser gravitational effect was felt on Earth and only this allowed such giant creatures to fly.  No flying creature has since re-evolved into anything akin to a former size, and the one or two birds which have retained such sizes have forfeited flight, their wings becoming vestigial.

A book of interest here is Adrian Desmond's The Hot-Blooded Dinosaurs.   Desmond has much to say about the Pteranodon, the 40-pound to 50-pound pterosaur which scientists used to believe was the largest creature to ever fly:

Pteranodon had lost its teeth, tail and some flight musculature, and its rear legs had become spindly.  It was, however, in the actual bones that the greatest reduction of weight was achieved.  The wing bones, backbone and hind limbs were tubular, like the supporting struts of an aircraft, which allows for strength yet cuts down on weight.  In Pteranodon these bones, although up to an inch in diameter, were no more than cylindrical air spaces bounded by an outer bony casing no thicker than a piece of card[board?].  Barnum Brown, of the American Museum, reported an arm bone fragment of an unknown species of pterosaur from the Upper Cretaceous of Texas in which "the culmination of the pterosaur ... the acme of light construction" was achieved.  Here, the trend had continued so far that the bone wall of the cylinder was an unbelievable one-fiftieth of an inch thick.  Inside the tubes, bony, crosswise struts no thicker than pins helped to strengthen the structure, another innovation in aircraft design anticipated by the Mezosozoic pterosaurs.

The combination of great size and negligible weight must, necessarily, have resulted in some fragility.  It is easy to imagine that the paper-thin, tubular bones supporting the gigantic wings would have made landing dangerous.  How could the creature have alighted without shattering all of its bones?  How could it have taken off in the first place?  It was obviously unable to flap [12]-foot wings strung between straw-thin tubes.  Many larger birds have to achieve a certain speed by running and flapping before they can take off, and others have to produce a wing beat speed approaching hovering in order to rise.  To achieve hovering with a 123-foot] wingspread, Pteranodon would have required 220 [pounds] of flight muscles as efficient as those in humming birds.  But it had reduced its musculature to about 8 [pounds], so it is inconceivable that Pteranodon could have taken off actively.

Pteranodon, then, was not a flapping creature; it had neither the muscles nor the resistance to the resulting stress.  Its long, thin, albatross-like wings betray it as a glider, the most advanced glider the animal kingdom has produced.  With a weight of only 40 [pounds] the wing loading was only1[pound] per square foot.  This gave it a slower sinking speed than even a man-made glider, where the wings have to sustain a weight of at least 4 [pounds] per square foot.  The ratio of wing area to total weight, in Pteranodon, is only surpassed in some of the insects. Pteranodon was constructed as a glider, with the breastbone, shoulder girdle and backbone welded into a box-like, rigid fuselage, able to absorb the strain from the giant wings.  The low weight combined with an enormous wing span meant that Pteranodon could glide at ultra-low speeds without fear of stalling.  Cherrie Bramwell of Reading University has calculated that it could remain aloft at only 15 [miles per hour].  So take-off would have been relatively easy.  All Pteranodon needed was a breeze of 15 [miles per hour] when it would face the wind, stretch its wings and be lifted into the air like a piece of paper.  No effort at all would have been required.  Again, if it was forced to land on the sea, it had only to extend its wings to catch the wind in order to raise itself gently out of the water.

It seems strange that an animal that had gone to such great lengths to reduce its weight to a minimum should have evolved an elongated bony crest on its skull.[9]

Desmond has mentioned some of the problems which the Pleranodon faced at 50 pounds or so: no possibility of flapping the wings, for instance.  The more recent giant Pterotorn finds of Argentina were not known when the book was written.  They came out in the 1980s, in issues of Science and in other places.  The Pterotorn was an eagle weighing between 160 pounds and 200 pounds, with a 27-foot wingspan, a modern bird whose existence involved, among other things, flapping wings and aerial maneuver.  Based on the above, it could not have flown.  How does one explain this?

Also, he notes a fairly reasonably modus operandi for the Pteranodon: It had a throat pouch like a pelican and has been found with fish fossils indicating a pelican-like existence (soaring over the waves and snapping up fish without landing).[10]  That should indicate that, peculiarly amongst all Earth creatures, the Pteranodon should have been immune from the great extinctions of past ages.  In Earth in Upheaval, Velikovsky noted that large animals had the greatest difficulty getting to high ground and other safe havens at the times of floods and the global catastrophes of past ages and were, therefore, peculiarly susceptible to extinction.[11] Men and animals would hide on mountain tops, but most would die from lack of food during the bard year following.  But high places safe from flooding, oceans and fish were accessible.  Taking only these considerations into account, the Pteranodon's way of life would have been impervious to all mishap; the notion that Pleranodon died out when the effect of gravity felt on Earth changed after the flood is a very credible explanation.

Problems which Desmond does not mention include the fact that life for a pure glider would almost be impossible in the real world and that some limited flying ability would be necessary for any aerial creature.  Living totally at the mercy of the winds, a creature might never get back home to its nest and offspring given the first contrary wind.

Desmond continues his discussion about the size of pterosaurs:

It would be a grave understatement to say that, as a flying creature, Pteranodon was large.  Indeed, there were sound reasons for believing that it was the largest animal that ever could become airborne.  With each increase in [both size and] weight, a flying animal needs a concomitant increase in power (to beat the wings in a flapper and to hold and maneuver them in a glider), but power is supplied by muscles which themselves add still more weight to the structure.  The larger a flier becomes the disproportionately weightier it grows by the addition of its own power supply.  There comes a point when the weight is just too great to permit the machine to remain airborne.  Calculations bearing on size and power suggested that the maximum weight that a flying vertebrate [could] attain [was] about 50 pounds: Pteranodon and its slightly larger, but lesser known, Jordanian ally, Titanopteryx were, therefore, thought to be the largest flying animals.[12]

The calculations mentioned above say that about 50 pounds is the maximum weight for either a flier or a glider and that experience from our present world coincides with this, having the largest flying creatures weigh in at less than 50 pounds.  The largest flying creatures which we actually see are albatrosses, geese and the like at 30 pounds to 35 pounds.  Similarly, my calculations say that the largest, theoretically possible, land animal in our present world would weigh 20,803 pounds and the bush elephant I have mentioned weighed 16,000 pounds.

Desmond continues:

[I]n 1972, the first of a spectacular series of finds suggested that we must drastically rethink our ideas on the maximum size permissible in flying vertebrates.  Although excavations are still in progress, three seasons' digging-- from 1972 to 1974--by Douglas A. Lawson of the University of California has revealed partial skeletons of three ultra-large pterosaurs in the Big Bend National Park in Brewster County, Texas.  These skeletons indicate creatures that must have dwarfed even Pteranodon.  Lawson found the remains of four wings, a long neck, hind legs and toothless jaws in deposits that were non-marine; the ancient entombing sediments are thought to have been made instead by floodplain silting.  The immense size of the Big Bend pterosaurs, which have already become known affectionately in the paleontological world as "747s" or "Jumbos," may be gauged by setting one of the Texas upper arm bones alongside that of a Pteranodon: the "Jumbo" humerus is fully twice the length of Pteranodon's. Lawson's computer-estimated wingspan for this living glider is over [50] feet.  It is no surprise, says Lawson, announcing the animal in Science in 1975, that the definitive remains of this creature were found in Texas.

Unlike Pteranodon, these creatures were found in rocks that were formed 250 miles inland of the Cretaceous coastline.  The lack of .. lake deposits in the vicinity militates against these particular pterosaurs having been fishers.  Lawson suggests that they were carrion feeders, gorging themselves on the rotting mounds of flesh left after the dismembering of a dinosaur carcass.  Perhaps, like vultures and condors, these pterosaurs hung in the air over the corpse waiting their turn.  Having alighted on the carcass, their toothless beaks would have restricted them to feeding upon the soft, pulpy internal organs.  How they could have taken to the air after gorging themselves is something of a puzzle.  Wings of such an extraordinary size could not have been flapped when the animal was grounded.  Since the pterosaurs were unable to run in order to launch themselves, they must have taken off vertically.  Pigeons are only able to take off vertically by reclining their bodies and clapping the wings in front of them; as flappers, the Texas pterosaurs would have needed very tall, stilt-like legs to raise the body enough to allow the 24-foot wings to clear the ground.  The main objection, however, still rests in the lack of adequate musculature for such an operation.  Is the only solution to suppose that, with wings fully extended and elevators raised, they were lifted passively off the ground by the wind?  If Lawson is correct and the Texas pterosaurs were carrion feeders, another problem can be envisaged.  Dinosaur carcasses imply the presence of dinosaurs.  The ungainly Brobdignagian pterosaurs were vulnerable to attack when grounded, so how did they escape the formidable dinosaurs?  Left at the mercy of wind currents, takeoff would have been a chancy business.  Lawson's exotic pterosaurs raise some intriguing questions.  Only continued research will provide the answers.[13]

Note that Desmond mentions a number of ancillary problems, any of which would throw doubt on the pterosaur's ability to exist as mentioned, and neglects the biggest problem of all: the calculations which say that 50 pounds are the maximum weight have not been shown to be in error; we have simply discovered larger creatures.  Much larger.  This is a dilemma.

Discussing the Texas pterosaurs, Robert T. Bakker says:

Immediately after their paper came out in Science, Wann Langston and his students were attacked by aeronautical engineers who simply could not believe that the Big Bend dragon had a wingspan of [401 feet or more.  Such dimensions broke all the rules of flight engineering; a creature that large would have broken its arm bones if it tried to fly .... Under this hail of disbelief, Langston and his crew backed off somewhat.  Since the complete wing bones hadn't been discovered, it was possible to reconstruct the Big Bend Pterodactyl [pterosaur] with wings much shorter than [50] feet.[14]

The original reconstruction had put the wingspan for the pterosaur at over 60 feet.  Bakker goes on to say that he believes the pterosaurs really were that big and that they flew--despite our not comprehending how; i. e., that the problem is ours.  He does not give a solution as to what we are looking at incorrectly.

So much for the idea of anything re-evolving into the sizes of flying creatures of the antediluvian world.  What about the possibility of man breeding something like a Pteratorn?  Could man actively breed even a 50-pound eagle?

David Bruce's Bird of Jove describes the adventures of Sam Barnes, one of England's top falconers, who took a Berkut eagle from Kirgiz, Russia, and to his home in Pwilheli, Wales.[15]  Berkuts are the biggest eagles, and Atlanta, the one Barnes brought back, at 26 pounds in flying trim, is believed to be as large as they ever get.  Having been bred specifically for size and ferocity for many centuries, they are the most prized of all possessions amongst nomads and are the imperial hunting bird of the Turko-Mongol peoples.

The eagle Barnes took to Wales with him had a disease for which no cure was available in Kirgiz, and was near to death at the time.  Had this not been the case, Barnes would not have been able to keep her, given the bird's value.  A Berkut of Atlanta's size was valued as worth more than a dozen of the most beautiful women in Turgiz.

The killing powers of a big eagle are out of proportion to its size.  Berkuts like Atlanta fly at wolves, deer and other large prey.  Mongols and other nomads raise sheep and goats, having no love for wolves.  A wolf might be little more than a day at the office for Atlanta, with her 11-inch talons; however, a wolf is a major-league challenge for an average-sized Berkut weighing from 15 pounds to 20 pounds.  Obviously, there would be an advantage to having the birds be bigger, i. e., to having the average Berkut weigh 25 pounds and for a large one to weigh 40 pounds or 50 pounds.

Ghengis Khan and other falconers wanted these birds to be large, since they flew them at everything from wolves and deer (a big Berkut like Atlanta can hook its talons around a wolf's spine and snap it) to leopards and tigers, and there was no lack of funds for the breeding program involved.

The breeding of Berkuts has continued apace from that day to this; however, the Berkuts have not gotten heavier than 25 pounds or so.

Remember Desmond's words regarding the difficulty which increasingly larger birds will experience getting airborne from flat ground?  Atlanta was powerful in flight, but she could not take off easily from flat ground.  This could mean disaster in the wild.  A bird of prey will often land on the ground with prey, and if take-off from flat ground to avoid trouble is not possible, that puts the bird's own life in peril.  Barnes learned how important it was to have the Berkut in captivity for certain periods and nesting wild at other times.  A bird bigger than Atlanta would not survive the other times.

This is specially true with one variety of Pteratorn, judging from pictures which have appeared in Science, was of a scaled-up golden eagle weighing 170 pounds or so, with a wingspan of 27 feet, as compared to Atlanta's 10-foot wingspan.  In our present world, a bird that big would not survive.


A fourth category of evidence derives from a careful analysis of antediluvian predators.  It is well known that elephant-sized animals cannot sustain falls and that elephants spend their entire lives avoiding them.  For an elephant, the slightest tumble can break bones or destroy enough tissue to prove fatal.  Predators, however, live by tackling and tumbling with prey.  One might think that this consideration would preclude the existence of any predator too large to sustain falls; weight estimates for the tyrannosaurs, however, include specimens heavier than any elephant.  That appears to be a contradiction.


The January, 1993, issue of Discover carries a picture of the Utahraptor, a 20 foot, 1,500-pound version of a Velociraptor, recently found in Utah.[16]  The creature apparently ran on the balls of its two hind feet, on two toes, with the third toe carrying a 12-inch claw for disemboweling prey.  This indicates a very active lifestyle.  Very few predators appear to be built for attacking prey notably larger than themselves; the Utahraptor appears to be such a case.

In our world, of course, 1,500-pound toe dancers do not exist.  The only example we have of a 1,500-pound land predator is the Kodiak bear, the lumbering gait and mannerisms of which are familiar to us all.  And so, over and over again, we encounter this same kind of dilemma, things which cannot happen in our world having been the norm in the antediluvian world.  The Saturn Myth and attenuated perceived gravity are the only explanations which really work.

[1].       David Lambert and the Diagram Group Staff, Field Guide to Dinosaurs.- The First Complete Guide to Every Dinosaur Now Known (New York, 1983), p. 118.

[2].       Christopher McGowan, Dinosaurs, Spitfires & Sea Dragons (Cambridge,  Massachusetts, 1991), p. 118.

[3].       Ibid., p. 104.

[4].       Knut Schmidt-Nielsen, Scaling: Why Is Animal Size So Important? (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1984), p. 163.

[5].       McGowan, op. cit., p. 97.

[6].       Ibid., pp.101-120.

[7].       Harvey B. Lillywhite, 'Sauropods and Gravity," Natural History (December, 1991): 33.

[8].       Peter Dodson, 'Lifestyles of the Huge and Famous," Natural History (December, 1991): 32.

[9].       Adrian J. Desmond, The Hot-Blooded Dinosaurs: A Revolution in Paleontology (New York, 1976), p. 178.

[10].     Ibid., pp. 180-181.

[11].     Immanuel Velikovsky, Earth in Upheaval (New York, 1955), pp. 7-8.

[12].     Desmond, op. cit., p. 182.

[13].     Ibid., pp. 182-183

[14].     Robert T. Bakker, The Dinosaur Heresies (New York, 1986), pp. 290-291.

[15].     David Bruce, Bird of Jove (New York, 1971).

[16].     Tim Folger, "The Killing Machine," Discover (January, 1993): 48-49.

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