Mythology Busters Debunk That Dinosaurs Inspired Ancient Griffin Folklore

The following was posted by Scott Acker in Pinterest with the caption, "Julian commisions Isabelle to document griffin variations?"

Archeological Evidence Confirms the Mercian Wulfbirdie Actually Lived!

Griffin post from Facebook. 

As I have stated I will be covering unusual creatures of our ancient world which have simply been thrown into the mythology bin yet there are countless references to those so called mythological companions of the gods in all corners of the world and this post will focus on the griffin or gryphon which have captivated us for centuries. These beasts are very common and can be seen beautifully depicted in the art of ancient Greece, but there are also a countless number of griffins depicted and represented within ancient Persia and art dating back to pre-dynastic Egypt, an extremely fascinating time where lots of things were happening when the gods walked among men as is written. The griffin can be seen in a cosmetic palette from Hierakonpolis, known as the "Two Dog Palette", which is dated between 3300-3100 BC. In Persia, griffins also appear on cylinder seals from Susa as early as 3000 BC, Syria, and even as far back as around 4,000 years ago within ancient Mesopotamia where the anunnaki gods/astronauts can be seen coexisting with them to the point where these magnificent beasts have seemingly been domesticated. If these creatures were simply the product of imagination then why are they depicted continuously throughout the ancient world in regions thousands of miles apart in many cases.? We know that dinosaurs roamed our planet millions of years ago due to fossil records so why do we have such a hard time believing that these so called mythological creatures once called earth home and served as companions to our teachers of pre -history and quite possibly our genetic engineers.? Many would argue that we haven't found any fossilized remains of such a creature so where's the evidence.? We must remember that we have and will always be fed the narrative of what we are told to believe and more importantly we only see what they want us to see,that is clear and if you cannot see that by now then you have to seriously sit down and open your eyes.I have supplied just a few depictions from ancient Sumer and Egypt through to ancient Greece and you can make up your own mind on this fantastical creature which has graced our screens in fantasy films such as Harry potter and Lord of the rings to name but a few,perhaps the earth at one time was that magical place we like to imagine through such films and books we immerse ourselves in, never forget that the history books are written by those who find them and sometimes even rewrite them. 

Rewriting the myth: experts doubt griffin was inspired by dinosaurs

Nicola Davis Science correspondent

Fri 21 Jun 2024 00.00 EDT

From the fearsome, clawed creatures of Greek mythology to the dancing animal Alice met in Wonderland, the legendary griffin has a long and colourful history.

But now experts say it is time to rewrite the fantastical beast’s backstory, arguing there is little evidence for the popular idea that the creature was inspired by dinosaur fossils in central Asia.

“The whole idea is conjecture and speculation,” said the artist and palaeontologist Dr Mark Witton of the University of Portsmouth.

Griffins have the head and wings of an eagle on the body of a lion. The oldest depictions arise in art from ancient Egypt and the near east, with some dating to before 3,000 BC, but the creatures also have a long history in central Asia and Greece.

One popular theory is that fossils from a central Asian horned dinosaur called protoceratops played a key role in the development of the griffin.

The idea, put forward more than 30 years ago by the classical folklorist Adrienne Mayor, suggests that these fossils, spotted by Scythian goldminers, helped to fuel stories of strange creatures with four legs and a beak that laid eggs in nests on the ground.

These tales were carried along trade routes, either giving rise to the art and literature of the griffin in ancient Greek culture, or becoming associated with existing images of the mythical creature and fuelling its legend.

But writing in the journal Interdisciplinary Science Reviews, Witton and colleagues cast doubt on this “geomyth”.

Among the criticisms, the team point out that griffins share few anatomical details with the dinosaurs, and that while ancient Greek texts refer to the idea of griffins – or “gryps” – as gold-guarding beasts of central Asia, protoceratops fossils were found nowhere near ancient gold deposits.

They also say evidence suggests art depicting griffins spread eastwards from Greece and the near east to central Asia, rather than the opposite direction, while the nesting behaviour attributed to griffins – and which is shared by protoceratops – was depicted on a 12th-century BC Mycenaean vase, hundreds of years before the tales of the dinosaurs could have reached Greece from farther east.

Fossils often require extensive excavation, something the team say ancient nomads were unlikely to undertake.

While Witton said the griffin had a different significance to different people – and that these ideas had mixed over time – he maintains that depictions of the animal most likely arose as an imaginative fusion of familiar, living creatures: birds and big cats.

Witton said it was possible the dinosaur hypothesis caught on because it combined three popular fields into one story: ancient history, mythology and dinosaurs. He added that the theory also encompassed the appealing notion that ancient people were smarter than we gave them credit for, not only discovering and excavating fossils, but using them for reconstructions.

However, Mayor told the Guardian she stood by her original research that led to the griffin-dinosaur hypothesis – although she welcomed alternative interpretations.

“The Greek and Roman authors who discuss the gryps reported that the stories about the unknown animal originated in central Asia, recounted by people who travelled along the ancient caravan trails between China and the Mediterranean,” she said. “Recognising that we cannot be certain that those stories were inspired by fossil observations, I still await a counter-hypothesis that fully accounts for the Greco-Roman literary and artistic evidence.”

Comparison between a protoceratops skeleton and ancient griffin art. Photograph: Mark P Witton/University of Portsmouth/PA 

You know that feeling when you’ve smuggled a goldfish or hamster into your dorm, hoping to avoid the RA’s radar? Imagine that, but on a mythical level. As in, my pet isn’t even supposed to exist. Meet Arlo, my majestic—and slightly feral—griffin, currently residing in a makeshift nest under my bed. Sounds insane, right? Welcome to my life.

It all started one chilly October night while I was heading back to the dorms. I heard a noise coming from behind the campus greenhouse, like a mix between a cat’s growl and the chirping of a particularly vocal eagle. I thought it was just a raccoon rummaging around for scraps, but when I went to investigate, I found Arlo—part lion, part eagle, and entirely chaotic.

His feathers were ruffled, his lion half hungry, and his sharp eagle eyes bore right into me, as if he’d chosen me for reasons I still can’t fathom. A few growls and an awkward staring contest later, I brought him back to my room, because what else was I supposed to do with a wounded mythical creature?

That’s when the trouble began.

Hiding a regular pet is one thing. Hiding a griffin is a whole new level of are you out of your mind? For starters, Arlo is loud. He screeches whenever he’s hungry (which is always) and lets out this guttural growl at anyone who gets too close to my door. And don't get me started on his dietary needs. Do you know how hard it is to explain a bulk order of steak tartare on a student meal plan?

Then there’s the feather situation. Griffin feathers are… distinctive. They’re half golden, half lion-tawny, with this odd iridescent sheen. I found one in the hallway once, right outside my door, which almost gave me a heart attack. RAs are notorious for being eagle-eyed (pun intended), and I can’t even imagine the questions that would follow if they found a “feather” that looks like it came straight out of a fantasy movie set.

To throw them off, I’ve developed a whole system: cleaning every inch of the room, using incense to mask the faint smell of wilderness, and keeping music playing constantly to drown out his sounds. But still, my friends have started raising eyebrows. “What’s that smell?” “Is that… fur?” “Do I hear scratching?” I brush them off with excuses about old furniture or “allergies,” but I can’t keep this up forever.

Of course, my luck ran out during a noise complaint from my suitemate. Last week, there was a knock on my door around 10 p.m. It was my RA, Jenna, who’s known for her nosy (or in this case, life-threatening) curiosity. I almost had a heart attack when I heard Arlo let out this low growl from under my bed.

“Oh, hey, just checking up on a noise complaint,” Jenna said, casually glancing around my room. I could feel Arlo coiled and ready to spring, the primal instinct to defend his territory thrumming in his chest.

Thinking fast, I tossed my pile of dirty laundry over the edge of the bed, covering his golden feathers and talon peeking out. “Yeah, sorry, I was just… watching a documentary. About lions.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow, probably catching the nervous twitch in my smile, but nodded. “Alright. Just keep it down, yeah?”

It wasn’t until she left that I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Arlo shot me a glare—yes, griffins can glare, and it’s terrifying. I tossed him a piece of leftover steak to appease him, silently cursing myself for finding a mythical creature with the least dorm-friendly attitude in existence.

Despite the constant fear of discovery, there’s something magical (no pun intended) about having Arlo around. When I’m stressed about exams or deadlines, I’ll catch him nuzzling against my textbooks or pecking at my notes as if he’s offering some mythical form of encouragement. And I swear, he understands way more than any regular pet would. Sometimes, I’ll even talk to him about my day, and he’ll sit there, feathers rustling, his sharp eyes attentive.

And I’m not the only one who’s noticed Arlo’s uncanny ability to… connect. Last week, my friend came over, utterly defeated by midterms. Arlo, hidden under the bed, let out a quiet chirp—and her face lit up. “Did you hear that? It’s like… a comforting sound. Weird, but nice.” She had no idea how right she was. Arlo’s presence has this way of calming people down, of making them feel heard, even if they don’t know he’s there.

Now, with Celebration Weekend coming up, my anxiety is through the roof. My parents are nosy, and my little sister is curious enough to dive headfirst under the bed if she suspects anything out of the ordinary. There’s also this awful thought in the back of my mind that Arlo might sense their actions as a threat and do something... griffin-like.

So, I’ve come up with a plan. Arlo will spend the weekend in my closet, snuggled in a hastily constructed fort of blankets and whatever snacks I can squirrel away from the dining hall. I’m banking on my sister not questioning why my room suddenly smells like “the inside of a zoo exhibit,” as my friends lovingly put it.

If all else fails, I’ll tell them I’m doing a project on wildlife preservation. Which, honestly, isn’t too far from the truth.

Look, I know keeping a mythological creature hidden in a dorm isn’t exactly sane. Every day feels like a balancing act between Arlo’s wild instincts and the demands of college life. But there’s something about having him around—it’s like having a piece of a world that doesn’t quite fit with ours, something that reminds me to dream a little bigger, to believe that the impossible can sometimes be just... under your bed.

So, if you ever hear strange noises in our hall or catch a glint of golden feathers in the corner of your eye, don’t question it too hard. Maybe you’ve stumbled across a mythical roommate of your own. Just remember to keep quiet and toss a little extra steak their way.

And if you see my RA, don’t mention any of this.