by Hannah Ross
Annette shrugged. “Hard to tell. Experts on hatching dinosaur eggs are kind of scarce, you know.”
Scott grinned. Without him being aware of it, after about an hour of watching during which nothing in particular happened, his head lolled back and his eyelids began to droop of their own accord. And then one of the eggs rattled, a faint noise that sounded as loud as a gunshot in the silence of the hangar.
Everyone leaned forward at once, unwilling to miss even one moment of the spectacle. The tension was palpable. “It’s happening,” Annette breathed, “It’s really happening!”
The shell suddenly fell apart in two uneven halves, revealing a small, elongated, wrinkled, and extremely ugly little reptile. It turned its head aimlessly from side to side, and flexed its wings, which looked like a rather wrinkled little umbrella. The little Antarctosaurus was glistening, and its scales looked very smooth.
“It’s here! It’s here! Isn’t it beautiful?” Annette’s voice was choked with excitement. Though Scott didn’t quite share this sentiment, he too was struck by the immensity of the moment.
Annette approached the incubator glass and tapped it with a finger. The little pterosaur turned its head in the direction of the noise, and looked at the humans on the other side of the glass with an unfocused stare.
“Hello there, little one,” Annette said tenderly. “I’m your mommy!”
“She’s totally lost her marbles,” Scott heard Chris whisper.
Annette turned back to face them, looking radiant. “Can you believe this?”
The newly hatched Antarctosaurus made a few unsure, tottering steps and flopped over, as if exhausted by the effort of coming into this world. Several other eggs now showed signs of imminent hatching. There were cracks in their shells, and odd rat-tatting sounds came from within as the hatchlings probed their way out.
“We’re going to have a whole flock!” Annette whispered ecstatically. She proved correct; within mere hours, to the research team’s delight, all ten eggs have successfully hatched, and the ten Antarctosaurus hatchlings ambled aimlessly around the incubator, which was strewn with bits of eggshell. They emitted strange, high-pitched calling sounds, and tended to crowd together in a group. Looking at them all side by side, Scott realized they did not, as he first thought, look identical. The hue of their skin fluctuated from greyish-green to smoky blue, and some were obviously longer and thinner than others.
“Right,” Annette said, “it’s time to get those little ones out into the brooder. Do we have our brooder set up and ready, Chris?”
“Ready and waiting, Annette. Adam, could you bring some crates?”
Adam came over with a large shipping crate. “I think at least two or three can fit in here.”
Carefully, Annette removed the lid of the incubator, bent down, and attempted to imitate the noises the creatures were making. Several pairs of bright yellow eyes followed her with avid interest, and one of the little pterosaurs made a calling sound in return.
“Did you hear that? It’s trying to communicate! Guys, come on over. Forget the crates – we’ll carry them in our arms. It’s very important that they imprint on us from their early hours.”
Scott was not so sure about that. Transferring the hatchlings in crates seemed far more sensible to him, but Annette was the first to set an example. She reached into an incubator, picked up one of the hatchlings and, in a rather awkward hold, attempted to cuddle it to her chest. The newly hatched reptile wriggled and, a few moments later, settled down in Annette’s arms, evidently content.
Steeling himself, Scott reached into the incubator as well. From the glistening smoothness of the creatures’ skin, he expected it to have a slimy feel, but it was warm, dry, and supple. He was reminded of a snake he once held in a petting zoo – only the snake was cool to the touch, and these weird reptiles were like leathery heating pads. The Antarctosaurus sniffed around his neck and chin and, to Scott’s surprise, coiled its tail around his arm.
The brooder was located in a building right next to the hangar. It reminded Scott of the structure set up by his sister and brother-in-law to rear baby chicks on their farm in North Dakota, a million miles away. This brooder, of course, was much larger and had more sophisticated equipment. Though in its basic form it was a simple, large terrarium with wood shavings and heating lamps, it had ultra-sensitive temperature and humidity monitors. Waterers were set up in several places against the walls. There was also a structure that resembled a bird-house, with a round opening that would offer the little creatures some privacy. Shiny stainless steel feeding trays, devoid of food at the moment, were placed in the middle of the enclosure.
“How are you going to feed them?” Scott asked. “Can they eat on their own, or..?”
“We aren’t sure yet,” Annette said. “We haven’t had the chance to observe how Antarctosaurus feed their young in nature. We can only try… we have a selection of local food – all sorts of fish, seaweed and such like – to offer them. Maybe they can eat on their own… or maybe the parents offer half-digested, regurgitated food, as some species of birds do… ah, thanks, Chris. Let’s try to feed them.”
Chris hurried over with a large tray containing several kinds of fish, de-boned and chopped into neat slices. Scott seriously doubted the Antarctosaurus ate that way in nature, but he followed after Annette, Adam and Chris. The brooder was large enough to admit the four of them without any inconvenience. The Antarctosaurus hatchlings observed them and, after what looked like a moment of brief hesitation, came nearer. Annette made soft cooing sounds.
“Come on over here, darlings. Mommy has brought you something to eat!”
Chris and Adam, Scott observed, fought hard to keep straight faces.
Annette spread a selection of fish on a feeding tray and managed to get the hatchlings to sniff at it, but they didn’t attempt to eat on their own. Seeing this, Annette picked up a slice of fish and tried to shove it into the mouth of the nearest hatchling. It snapped its jaws shut and moved its head from side to side, unmistakably conveying that I won’t eat this way! What were you thinking?!
“You could try holding a bit in a pincer grip and dangling it above their heads, Annette,” Scott suggested. “Here, see? Many birds feed their young ones this way.”
“This aren’t birds,” Adam pointed out, but Scott went ahead anyway. He took a bit of fish and held it in a pincer grasp, and dangled it above the pterosaurs’ heads. Several pairs of eyes followed him with interest. Then, to his immense surprise, a pair of jaws opened and Scott slid a sliver of fish within. The little reptile made a loud swallowing sound. Annette, Chris and Adam cheered.
“You have a way with them, Scott!” Annette said, impressed. “Here, show me how you are feeding them…”
The feeding process was absorbing and oddly satisfying. With astonishing rapidity, the young pterosaurs seemed to accept their caretakers as a source of comfort and nutrition.
“I have to admit they seem quite tame,” Scott said, looking at one of the hatchlings nestled on Annette’s lap. “I just wonder what will become of them when they grow.”
Annette wasn’t listening. She had picked up one of the hatchlings and was cooing to it. “Aren’t you a beauty! Where’s Mommy?”
Chris surreptitiously rolled his eyes and shook his head. Annette took no notice.
“We ought to give them names, but of course, it’s hard to know which are males and which are females… I’ll have to ask the hospital to let us use their ultrasound machine.”
“Do they have hollow bones, like ordinary pterosaurs?” Scott asked.
“Yes, but their skeleton, and in particular wing bone structure are quite different. This is a distinct group, and now we can raise up our own colony… oh, Scott, this is a dream come true!” Annette was beaming.
Though his feelings about the whole experiment were still ambivalent, Scott could not suppress his fascination with the newly hatched reptiles. He would have stayed longer to observe their early days and taming proce
ss, but duty called, and he knew he ought to start on his way back to the valley. He had wanted to snowmobile, but a research group from Scott Base asked for a chopper ride to AN-85, and so Scott set out in company with three New Zealanders and Petri Karhu, whom he invited to come for a visit to the valley.
“It would be nice,” Petri said, gratified. “I’d like to see the place again… I have half a mind to go home, you know.”
“To Finland? Why, Pete?”
“A lot of work to be done there these days. I still have family there… was able to get in touch with them recently, after a long break. Sounds like they could use my help.”
“I wish you’d stay for a while longer. Someone has got to keep an eye on that crazy girl, and Douglas is no help.”
“You mean Annette Geels?”
“Who else? She’s brilliant and hard-working, but you can’t deny she’s a nutter.”
“It will be fine. There’s Anders.”
“Anders is getting on in years… I wouldn’t let him hear I said that, though.”
The news of the Antarctosaurus hatchlings made waves across the entire Anai settlement. Scott was summoned to the Council of Elders, where everyone listened to his story with rapt attention. Ne Tarveg looked deeply disapproving.
“So she actually persists in this folly. Well, I suppose she has the right to put her own life in danger, but what about other people?”
“I wouldn’t say the hatchlings are dangerous at the moment, Ne Tarveg. Not counting the wings, they are probably as large as the chicks of those big penguins at the bay.”
“You can’t compare those monsters with penguins, Arahak. Who knows how fast they grow?”
Omrek, on the other hand, was fascinated. “I would like to see them,” he said.
“That can be easily arranged. The helicopter goes back to the station tomorrow. You could get on board.”
“I might do that,” Omrek said, brightening up. “Things are quiet at the village now, and I suppose Manari won’t object to me going.”
Later, he came over to Tahan and Scott’s house, and looked at the photos Scott had saved on his iPad. “I should get myself one of these things,” he said longingly as he flipped through the pictures.
“An iPad?” Scott raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. It could come in useful. Look at these pictures… It is incredible how such very exact likeness can be taken. It is nothing like our wall paintings.”
Scott suppressed a smile. “Yes, you’re right about that. But an iPad wouldn’t be much use to you in the valley. You’d need electricity to charge it, and you’d only be able to bring that many spare batteries. I don’t use mine much.”
“Oh,” Omrek’s face fell in disappointment. “Electricity, yes. I should have thought of that. I suppose there is no chance there will ever be electricity here in the valley?” he asked after a pause.
“Here?” Scott was surprised by the novelty of the thought. “It would be difficult to arrange, yes… and I don’t assume the Council would approve.”
“No. They wouldn’t approve of anything new. They are bent on preserving the ways of our elders.”
“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“Yes and no. There are so many things I love about the valley. I wouldn’t want to live anyplace else, but I want to know all about the world outside, and I don’t see why we can’t have what’s best in it.”
Scott thought about it for a moment, trying to imagine the Anai valley with electricity, and perhaps running water and modern toilets… it would be much more convenient, to be sure, but it wouldn’t really be like the valley anymore. He suddenly understood better why Anders Lindholm was so against the Anai making any contact with modern civilization. The lure of modern comforts and tools and knowledge was too strong, and once a community had a taste of those, it would never want to go back.
But the Anai are not a specimen on display in an anthropological museum. They are real people… my people. And if some of them want to have electricity and iPads and internet access, they are within their right.
“I suppose solar powered electricity could be set up here during the light season,” he said. “But during the winter it would be more complicated.”
“Solar powered?” Omrek repeated the English words with deep curiosity showing in his face. “How’s that?..”
“I’ll explain,” Scott said, reaching for his iPad and opening a sketchbook program. Omrek never tired of techno talk. Scott only hoped his batteries would hold.
The issue of the parallels between the Anai tongue and Basque was another thing on his mind, but he only felt comfortable to share this with Tahan for now.
“It might all come to nothing,” he said. “It might be a…” he stopped, trying to search for the Anai parallel to ‘wild goose chase’. “It might be a shoal of fish that scatters as soon as you look at it,” he concluded.
“But you don’t think it is?”
Scott shook his head. “Sometimes, I don’t know what to think. I know all humans on earth have a common origin. The Anai must have come from somewhere. We just need to look carefully.”
It was about the middle of the season of light – the long, bright Antarctic solstice – and from looking at the valley, it might have seemed that the sun would never set. The village was now at the feverish pitch of its annual activity, hunting, salting down food, curing sealskins, working the crops, fishing, making clay pots and ivory utensils. People slept little, as a general rule, with so much light all around, all day long. The grasses swayed in the wind, tall and laden with round red berries. Scott knew, though, that as soon as light began to wane, all this activity and abundance would soon come to an end. After celebrating the last sunrise of the year, people would retreat into their homes for the long rest of winter.
But for it to be truly restful, we need to be well-provided. We need to stock up on supplies and food. Would they have time, after such an inauspicious beginning of the season, and so many losses?
Many people shared Scott’s concerns, Ne Tarveg perhaps most of all. Hunting, butchering and salting took most of his time these days. He was scarcely seen around his house, there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his beard was scruffy.
“He’s driving himself too hard,” Omrek told Scott confidentially as he sat shaping one of his ivory spear-points. Scott looked at his brother-in-law’s long, slender fingers as they moved, deftly slicing off the thinnest flakes of ivory. The spear-point was being created as if by magic. As always, Omrek’s craftsmanship was admirable. There were more than a few skilled carvers in the settlement, but none matched his artistry.
“Tahan told me that he’s always had this desire to prove himself. She said she’d be happy to give up the place of chieftain to him.”
Omrek raised his eyebrows. “It doesn’t work that way. Ki Daygan had made Tahan chieftainness before he died, and Egan is supposed to take her place when he’s old enough. If she had no children that’s another matter, but as things are, she can’t simply step aside for anyone she deems fit.”
“What if the Council of Elders supports that?”
“The Council… well, perhaps under special circumstances… if Tahan were sick, or – why, has she really given this a lot of thought?”
“She has felt overburdened ever since Niri was born. She has her hands full, and there’s no mother or sister or aunt to help her.”
“Yes, that is true. Even so, Ne Tarveg wouldn’t…”
He stopped abruptly, and when Scott looked over his shoulder, he understood why. The very subject of their conversation was approaching, and Scott had the uncomfortable feeling that Ne Tarveg had overheard some snatches of what they were saying.
His expression, however, was unreadable. It was evident he had just come from the hot springs, though. His hair was still wet, neatly brushed aside and braided, and his beard and mustache were trimmed short. He had changed into a fresh sealskin outfit, and had replaced his worn moccasins with a new pair.
“I greet you, Ki Arahak and Ri Omrek,” he said.
“Why so formal, Tarveg?” Omrek asked lightly. “You look all dressed up for a celebration.”
“I merely changed into clean clothes. It was about time. I had never gone so long without a bath before, but there was little choice. Things have been busy this season.”
“That’s true enough. I can only hope we’ll have time to preserve enough food before the winter.”
Ne Tarveg nodded. Then he fixed Scott with a beady eye. “I have a request to make of you. I want to go to your place, the place of the people from beyond the sea, and see the hatchlings of the winged beasts that came from the sky.”
It took Scott a few moments to be sure he didn’t misunderstand. Omrek, too, looked extremely surprised. “You want to go to the foreigners’ camp, Tarveg? You?”
“I’ve thought about this a lot. We have a chance to learn… to know our enemy. I want to see those young ones. Can this be done?”
“I… I can take you to McMurdo, yes. You and Omrek both,” Scott said, getting a grip on himself. There’s something different about Ne Tarveg. I just wish I could pinpoint it.
Communication between the valley and McMurdo was always patchy at best, but Scott managed to get a radio signal and arranged for a helicopter to arrive in 48 hours to pick them up. He looked forward to getting to the station, to check his emails if for no other reason. Internet access was probably the one thing he missed most in the Anai valley, even more than electricity and running water. This life is so harmonious, but it’s best to be born into it. My mind will never be as restful as Tahan’s.
For the journey, Omrek donned his modern clothes and shoes, while Scott preferred one of the parkas made by Tahan. Ne Tarveg wore traditional attire, and such that was likely to attract looks – he had intricate bead embroidery across his chest and on the tops of his moccasins, and strings of brightly colored beads were woven into his hair as well. A ritual painting of chevrons in red and black was done across one of his cheekbones. That, Scott knew, was highly formal facial painting. He had only seen Ne Riorag do that on important festivals.
