Mantiraptor

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A reptilian brushes through the thicket. Small and lithe, standing on three-toed legs, the little herbivore seems like a mix between a lizard and a naked bird. This eubolosaur mindlessly nibbles on some ferns when, suddenly, two large, slimy arms materialize out of the forest, clamp down and pick it up. The prey’s futile attempts to flee this deadly grasp only dig the huge keratinous spikes and hooks lining the arms deeper into its flesh, as two-clawed paws curl around its belly. Well-placed bites to the back and neck soon end the bleating cries.

The ambusher is Mantiraptor olsoni. Though it also appears like a two-legged lizard, it shares little else in common with its prey. Its skin is smooth and clammy and it has no claws on its feet. Instead of an earhole there sits a large tympanum behind the skull, like a frog’s. This man-sized forest monster, like many others on Ryl Madol, is an anamniote, not quite a reptile, but also not quite an amphibian.

The retention of metamorphosis in these once-archaic tetrapods has allowed for some quite impressive plasticity in the development of the limbs, both through phylogeny and ontogeny. Unlike any reptile or mammal, this predator has been able to modify its forelimbs through the fusion and extension of the metacarpals to such a degree that they now resemble the raptorial arms of a mantid insect. A perfect weapon for lying in wait and surprising the small reptiles of the forest floor.

These arms and the ambush-tactics they facilitate are also all that the mantiraptor has in its favour. Despite its superficially dinosaur-like appearance, it is neither fast nor agile. Its metabolism is slow and it can spend hours, maybe even days, standing or sitting completely still, hidden behind bushes and ferns thanks to camouflage, its breaths so shallow that they do not even create visible movements in the chest. Only when some sensory stimulus occurs do the arms, fueled by a short burst of anaerobic energy, lunge forward and primal instincts kick into gear, mindlessly holding onto whatever has been caught and methodically disassembling it with the crocodilian maw. Once its belly is filled, it seeks shelter and goes to sleep for long periods until hunger strikes again. Its name may evoke associations with the smarter dromaeosaurs of the Cretaceous, but the mantiraptor’s brain is about as complex as a frog’s, if not dumber. While such a robotic being may seem easier to handle, it is exactly this mechanical mind which makes it so dangerous. Whereas smarter predators may hesitate to attack a new animal they do not know, for they may rightfully sense that something unknown may be dangerous, the mantiraptor will disassemble a human just as much as anything else that walks in front of its cold eyes.

Compared to other mantiraptor species, Olson’s mantiraptor is unique for still having a more “classic” style of reproduction. The larvae develop from waterborne eggs and go through an aquatic phase where the raptorial arms develop first in order to feed on small fish and the tadpoles of other anamniotes. Mantiraptors do not go through multiple distinct sub-adult morphs like other anamniotes on Ryl Madol. After the hindlegs evolve and the gills are reabsorbed, the young quickly leave the water and come to resemble miniature adults. More derived species, like Thylacosaurus, have shortened this life cycle even further by carrying around their eggs and larvae in a brood pouch on the back until they can walk by themselves, a method which resembles the marsupial frogs of Australia.