Authors: Dick King-Smith

Dinosaur Trouble

BOOK: Dinosaur Trouble

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Table of Contents

Title Page
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Copyright Page

For my good friend Eric Barker

â
N.B.

When he hatched from his egg, the first thing the baby saw was a huge face looking down at him. Above a long, toothless, beaked jaw, two large eyes stared into his as he struggled free of the egg. Once the baby was out, he could see that the creature had big leathery wings, stretching from its fingers to its knees, and that it had long, slender legs.

“Hello!” it said.

“Who are you?” asked the baby.

“Your mother,” the creature replied. “Nice to see you. Let's go flying.” And she spread her big leathery wings and took off.

Could I do that
? wondered the baby.
Only one way to find out.
So he spread his very small wings and flew up after his mother.

“Well done!” she cried when he reached her. “It's nice to be nidifugous, isn't it?”

“What does ânidifugous' mean, Mom?” the baby asked.

“It means to be able to fly as soon as you're hatched. All pterodactyls can.”

“What does âpterodactyl' mean, Mom?”

“Creatures like us,” the baby's mother replied.
“
Pteron
means âwing,' and
daktylos
means âfinger.' Each of my wings is attached to each of my fourth fingers, see? And so are yours.”

“So I'm a whatever-you-said, am I?”

“A pterodactyl. Yes, you are, my son. And a very pulchritudinous one too.”

“What does âpulchritudinous' mean, Mom?”

“Beautiful.”

“Oh,” said the baby pterodactyl, and he kicked his little legs happily as he flew high above the rocky land.

“Now,” said his mother, “there's the matter of nomenclature.”

“What,” said the baby, “does ânomenclature' mean, Mom?”

“Names. You have to have one.”

“Gosh, you do know a lot of long words, Mom.”

“One has to,” said his mother, “in these Jurassic days, if one wants to survive. Who knows, one day pterodactyls might become extinct. And before you ask me what âextinct' means, I'll tell you. It means gone, finished, kaput, dead and done for.”

“But, Mom,” the baby said, “I don't want to be extinct.”

“Don't worry your head about it,” his mother said. “If it should happen, it won't be for millions and millions of years, my son. Now then, what shall we call you? You ask enough questions. How about Nosy? How d'you like that?”

The baby waggled his small but rather long snout.

“I don't mind,” he said, “but, Mom, what's your name?”

“Aviatrix,” said his mother.

“What does âAviatrix' mean, Mom?” asked Nosy.

“A female flier. In the skills of flying, among all pterodactyls, I am paramount.”

This time Nosy didn't ask anything. He simply said, “I suppose that means âthe best.'”

“It does, Nosy, my boy,” replied Aviatrix. “It most certainly does.”

Mother and son flew on, side by side. Nosy flapped along as fast as he could while his mother flew slowly so that he could keep up with her.

“Mom,” said Nosy after a while, “where are we going?”

“To see your father,” said Aviatrix.

“Oh. What's he called?”

“His name is Clawed. You'll see why when you meet him. Never have there been claws like his.”

Before long they left behind the dry stony place where Nosy had hatched among the hot rocks, and came to a wood. Here there were quite a number of pterodactyls, hanging upside down as pterodactyls do, each gripping a branch with its taloned feet. The biggest one, Nosy could see as they dropped lower, had the most enormous claws.

“There he is!” cried Aviatrix. “There's my Clawed! Come on, Nosy, come and meet your daddy!”

When they landed, Aviatrix could see that Clawed was fast asleep. She hung herself head down at one side of him. Nosy, copying his mother, hung himself on the other side. He thought of saying, “Hello, Daddy,” but there didn't seem much point, so he said nothing.

Then suddenly Clawed said in a loud deep voice, “Watch out, everybody!”

“What does Daddy mean?” asked Nosy.

“Haven't a clue,” replied his mother. “Your father is a somniloquist.”

“What does âsomniloquist' mean, Mom?”

“Someone who talks in his sleep. I expect he'll say something else in a minute,” and almost immediately, Clawed shouted, “T. rex approaching! Scramble! Scramble!”

Aviatrix raised a wing and smacked her husband across his face.

“Wake up, Clawed!” she said. “You're dreaming.”

Clawed opened his eyes and shook his head as though to clear it.

“Oh, hello, Avy, old girl,” he said. “I was having a nightmare. Didn't know you were here.”

“I'm not the only one who's here,” said Aviatrix. “Look on your other side.”

Obediently Clawed turned his huge head, to see a very small head close by.

“Hello, Daddy,” said Nosy.

“Daddy?” said Clawed. “What are you talking about, boy? What's he mean, Avy?”

“This is our son, dear,” said Aviatrix proudly. “Our firstborn. Only hatched this morning, but already he's a good flier.”

“Because I'm nidifugous, Daddy,” said Nosy.

Clawed shook his head in puzzlement. “Sounds like one of those long words your mother uses,” he said. “Half the time I don't understand what she's going on about.”

“You never were very bright, dear,” said Aviatrix, “but I think our son is an infant prodigy.”

“What does âinfant prodigy' mean, Mom?” asked Nosy.

“A highly intelligent child,” replied his mother.

Nosy felt very pleased at this. He couldn't kick his little legs because he was hanging by them, but he flapped his little wings instead.

“Don't suppose he even knows what he is,” said Clawed grumpily. “What are you, boy, eh?”

“I'm a pterodactyl, Daddy,” said Nosy. “Like you. Though I don't suppose I'll ever be as big as you.”

Or as silly,
said Aviatrix to herself,
fond as I am of him
.

“What's your name, boy?” asked Clawed. “If I know your mother, she'll have given you a very long one.”

“No, Daddy,” said Nosy, “I'm just Nosy.”

“Are you indeed?” said Clawed. “Poking your snout into other people's business, eh? Well, ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.”

“No, I mean, my name is Nosy.”

“Oh,” said Clawed. “Oh, I see. By the way, my name's Clawed.”

“I know,” said Nosy, “but I can't call you that. You're my father.”

Clawed hung in silence for a while, deep in thought. Then he said, “You're right, my son. You'd better stick to âDaddy.' Take him away now, Avy. I haven't had enough sleep.” And he closed his eyes.

“Come on, then, Nosy,” said his mother. “Daddy's tired,” and she dropped from the branch and spread her wings and flew off.

Nosy followed.

“Where are we going now, Mom?” he asked.

“To get some breakfast.”

“What sort of breakfast?”

“Bugs.”

“What does that mean?”

“Flies and beetles and gnats and midges and things. We are carnivores, you see.” “What does that mean?”

“We eat meat, including insects. There should be lots flying about on a nice warm morning like this. Specially if there should be a dead dinosaur lying about somewhere. There'll be masses of flies around it,” said Aviatrix.

Before long she said, “We're in luck, Nosy. Look down there.”

Nosy looked down, and on the ground below he saw a simply enormous body, with clouds of flies buzzing upon and around it.

“Whatever is that, Mom?” he asked.

“Brachiosaurus.”

“But it's so huge! Whatever could have killed lt?”

“T. rex, I expect.”

“T. rex? That's what Daddy shouted out in his nightmare. What does it mean, Mom?”

“Tyrannosaurus rex,”
said his mother. “The fiercest, fastest flesh-eating dinosaur of all. A truly nightmarish creature.”

“What does it look like, Mom?” asked Nosy.

“Oh, stop your everlasting questions, Nosy, do! Tuck in to these flies,” said Aviatrix.

She swooped down upon the swarm of insects hovering above the dead brachiosaurus and snapped up the largest. Nosy, copying, began to catch the smallest.

Then his mother dropped down and landed upon the enormous dinosaur. Nosy followed her. All kinds of delicious little creatures were crawling over the brachiosaurus.

Nosy said, “But, Mom, what does T. rex look like?”

“Well,” said Aviatrix, with her mouth full, “it's got a massive body and a short, thick neck, and a large head and a battery of long, sharp teeth. It has tiny forelegs but very big muscular back legs on which it stands upright.”

“Oh,” said Nosy. “Mom?”

“What now?”

“There's one coming.”