A dinosaur named Sue, and the way science really works

Seeing the detailed skull so close up, not lost in the atmospheric gloom of a dark hall was an epiphany. It seemed like I was being invited to investigate and explore, not just gape in awe. Another case held a jumbled collection of bones that hadn't been mounted with the skeleton. A caption explained that the scientists weren't quite sure exactly where these bones should be positioned on the skeleton. Since they didn't know (didn't know?!), they were keeping them aside until further research would reveal more clues to their correct location.

Now I was hooked. My husband and I stood there looking at the odd bones, trying to mentally piece them on to the skeleton. What purpose would they have served? Were there any other skeletons that had similar bones that might give us a hint as to their location? We were looking at the other skeletons in the collection with a fresh eye, trying to find patterns and reason things through.

A series of kiosks around Sue pushed the inquiry even farther. Instead of presenting authoritative knowledge about what dinosaurs were really like, the displays asked questions, and highlighted all the things we don't know about them yet. I had no idea that only seven Tyrannosaurus rex skeletons that were more than half complete had ever been found. Tyrannosaurus rexes seemed such archetypal examples of large dinosaurs. I had assumed we had many skeletons to study.

Another display pointed out the structure of her small forearms, and sent us on another hunt for ideas and theories. The forearms are really quite a mystery, it seems. Sue's arms were way too short to reach her mouth, so she couldn't have fed herself with them. They wouldn't have been any use for grabbing prey, and even ripping open dead prey would have been a challenge for the tiny arms. Still, Sue's forearm bones were thick and strong, with sturdy muscle attachments. She must have used them for something.

Illustrations showed several ideas about how Sue might have used her arms, from shredding meat into smaller bits, to grooming a friend (maybe a mate), to carrying a baby tyrannosaur. The last idea may be unlikely, but it's not impossible. The display emphasized just how little we know about Tyrannosaurus rex behavior. They very well may have raised their young, similar to modern large reptiles like crocodiles, which tenderly carry their young between their power jaws. Far from being a mindless hunting machine, tyrannosaurs might very well have had social behaviors and mating rituals. We just don't know. We're not even sure what sort of prey they hunted.

One display showed a famous old diorama that featured a frenzied Tyrannosaurus rex tearing into an unfortunate triceratops. Now the caption pointed out that the only holes we've ever found in a triceratops skeleton were made by the sharp frontal horn of another triceratops, not the knife-life teeth of a tyrannosaur. We really have no idea exactly what and how Sue would have hunted.

The extent of our ignorance was really brought home to me when another display explained that we can't quite figure out how Tyrannosaurs slept. With her massive frame and tiny forearms, it would have been difficult for Sue to lie down to sleep, and be able to get up again quickly if threatened. Did she sleep on one leg like a bird? Did she lean against something or just crouch down?

As I walked out of the Field Museum that day, I heard people talking about Sue, wondering about her forearms, laughing as their kids tried to mimic how a Tyrannosaurus Rex might settle down for a nap. And whether they knew it or not, they were taking home a very different impression about science that I had learned as a child. Science doesn't lose any of its drama or wonder when we admit that we aren't sure what the facts really are. Questions are much more important. Anyone can come up with a new idea, formulate a new theory. That's the way science really works. And as I said goodbye to Sue that day, I was sure that she hadn't taught us her last lesson yet. See you around the Field Museum, Sue.

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