The feline Miracinonyx trumani got its nickname, the “American cheetah,” from its slender, long-limbed body, reminiscent of an African cheetah. While the extinct Pleistocene predator did hunt down speedy prey, such as saiga antelope (illustrated), a new study shows some animals ate a diet of mostly fish, suggesting the species was more adaptable than previously thought.
Velizar Simeonovski
A cat can look rather like a cheetah without being a cheetah, and a predator with long legs need not spend its life chasing antelopes. That is the lesson from new research into the extinct “American cheetah”, Miracinonyx trumani, whose ancient DNA and dietary chemistry reveal a more complicated animal than its nickname suggests. It is also another example of why evolutionary relationships have to be investigated through evidence, rather than decided by resemblance and fitted into preconceived categories.
The study, led by Molly Cassatt-Johnstone of the University of California, Santa Cruz, and published in Current Biology, analysed ancient DNA from four specimens. It strengthens earlier evidence that Miracinonyx was more closely related to living pumas than to true cheetahs, with the puma and Miracinonyx lineages estimated to have separated approximately 2.6 million years ago. Its cheetah-like anatomy therefore reflects convergent evolution: the independent evolution of similar features in different lineages.
There is an immediate difficulty here for young-Earth creationism. The evolutionary separation of these cats occurred millions of years before the supposed “Creation Week”, while the three Yukon specimens themselves are approximately 31,000 years old. These were animals living, feeding and dying in an established ecosystem long before the entire universe supposedly existed according to a literal reading of Genesis. Their identification also extends the animal’s known distribution far into northern Canada. Science News.
Images by Julius Csotonyi (CC-BY SA)
For creationists, simply assigning all these animals to a vaguely defined “cat kind” explains none of this. It does not account for the particular branching relationships preserved in their DNA, the estimated dates of their divergence, or the independent evolution of similar anatomy. A label can accommodate almost anything when its boundaries remain adjustable; a scientific explanation must account for the details and remain open to testing.
There is also a useful illustration here of how science corrects and refines its understanding. Researchers have tested an appealing comparison against genetic and chemical evidence and uncovered a richer evolutionary history. The result is an extinct puma relative with its own combination of anatomical features and ecological opportunities—an animal whose identity emerges from the evidence, rather than from the name we happened to give it.







































