Table of Contents
Title Page
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Copyright Page
For my good friend Eric Barker
—N.B.
1
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 ‘nidifugous’ mean, Mom?” the baby asked.
“It means to be able to fly as soon as you’re hatched. All pterodactyls can.”
“What does ‘pterodactyl’ mean, Mom?”
“Creatures like us,” the baby’s mother replied. “Pteron means ‘wing,’ and daktylos means ‘finger.’ 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 ‘pulchritudinous’ 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 ‘nomenclature’ 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 ‘extinct’ 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 ‘Aviatrix’ 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 ‘the 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!”
2
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 ‘somniloquist’ 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 ‘infant 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 ‘Daddy.’ 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?”
“Fli
es 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.”
3
A terrifying roar split the air. Aviatrix looked up from her meal of fat flies.
“So there is,” she said.
“Mom,” said Nosy, “hadn’t we better push off before it arrives?”
Every time T. rex roared, Nosy could see those long, sharp teeth, and they looked very sharp indeed.
“No hurry,” said Aviatrix. “Time for a bit of fun. Do you remember what my name means?”
“Yes, Mom. Female flier.”
“And what else did I tell you?”
“You said you were paramount among all pterodactyls in the skills of flying.”
“Quite right, Nosy. Watch this,” said Aviatrix, and she took off and flew directly at the approaching tyrannosaurus.
Seeing her coming, it reared up to its full height and opened wide that huge mouth crammed with sharp teeth. It thought this was going to be an easy meal.
Now Aviatrix showed just how skilled a flier she was. As she neared that open mouth, she suddenly shot straight up into the air. And, as she zoomed over the head of T. rex, she sank her sharp claws into its snout.
T. rex let out a loud bellow, not of pain (for its skin was too thick to be much harmed by a scratch from a pterodactyl) but of rage at the cheek of the creature. It watched in fury as Aviatrix now put on a show of aerobatics.
First she looped the loop, high above the great flesh-eater, then she dived back down, straight at it, so that the watching Nosy felt sure that his mother’s last moment had come.
But no, gracefully she sideslipped past the open mouth and then began to sweep around and around T. rex’s neck in tight circles, while it snapped furiously at her. It rocked unsteadily on its hind feet, becoming quite giddy in its vain efforts to catch this pest.
Shooting skyward once more in the steepest of climbs, Aviatrix hovered for a moment high above the tyrannosaurus. Then, folding her leathery wings, she dropped, twisting and turning like a falling leaf, apparently totally out of control.
It looked to Nosy as though his mother was going to go straight down the throat of T. rex. But all its last snap at her earned it was a mouthful of fresh air and another scratch on the nose.
Once more Aviatrix slipped past those gaping jaws and then climbed high, to perform one last magnificent feat of aerobatics. She spread her wings wide and rolled, with first her right wing pointing skyward, then her left, over and over and over, before she finally flew back to the body of the brachiosaurus, toward which the raging T. rex was now rushing at top speed.
“Scramble, Nosy!” she called down. “I think our friend is a bit upset.”
“Gosh, Mom, you really are a paramount flier!” said Nosy as they flew away together. “What was that last thing you did?”
“That,” said his mother, “was the Victory Roll.”
When Clawed eventually woke up, he remembered that something nice had happened. What was it? Oh yes, he was a father, he had a son. Avy had brought the boy along to see him. What was he called? Oh yes, Nosy, that was it.
Clever little chap too, thought Clawed, knows some long words already, just like his mother. I don’t know any long words. Oh no, wait a minute, I do know some. Pterodactyl to begin with, and—let’s see, now—diplodocus and iguanodon and allosaurus and stegosaurus and triceratops. Not bad, eh? What have I left out? Oh, I know, horrible old Tyrannosaurus rex. Had a nightmare about it, didn’t I? Sooner call it T. rex, though—short names are easier. Could shorten the others, I suppose.
Dip. Ig. Al. Steg. Tri. No, it doesn’t work.
Clawed yawned, tired by so much thinking. He was about to doze off again when he heard two voices.
“Clawed!” said one, and “Daddy!” said the other, and the branch creaked as his wife and his son landed to hang upside down on either side of him.
“Hello,” he said. “Where have you two been?”
“Nosy will tell you,” replied Aviatrix.
“Oh, Daddy!” cried Nosy. “We’ve had ever such an exciting time! We were feeding on a brachiosaurus—”
“What, eating it?” interrupted Clawed. “How did you manage that?”
“Don’t be silly, Clawed,” said Aviatrix. “Nosy means we were on a brachiosaurus, feeding. On flies. Don’t interrupt the boy.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Clawed. “Go on, Nosy.”
“And then,” went on Nosy, “what d’you think we saw, Daddy?”
“Haven’t a clue,” said Clawed.
“Have a guess.”
“One of our relations, perhaps? Haven’t seen my brother for a while. You’d like your uncle Eggbert, Nosy. He’s nearly as big as me.”
And nearly as silly, said Aviatrix to herself, smiling fondly at her husband.
“No, Daddy,” said Nosy. “It wasn’t a pterosaur we saw, it was a dinosaur.”
Dip? Ig? Al? Steg? Tri? thought Clawed. I don’t know.
“I give up,” he said.
“We saw a T. rex!” said Nosy. “And Mom did some absolutely fantastic, superlative aerobatics.”
“Which you will probably be able to do just as well when you’ve grown up, Nosy,” said Aviatrix. “Thanks to your primogeniture.”
“What does that word mean, Avy?” asked Clawed.
“Literally,” replied Aviatrix, “it means the circumstance of being firstborn. If you comprehend the purport of my prognostication.”
Clawed looked blank.
“Mom means I’m going to be a good flier, Daddy,” said Nosy.
Clawed looked pleased.
“You’re bound to be, my son,” he said, “with a father like me.”
4
Aviatrix looked at her large husband with a mixture of amusement and pride. He may be silly, she thought, but he is a good flier. Not as good as me, of course, but faster, I have to admit. With that enormous wingspan of his and his great strength, I reckon he could beat any pterodactyl on earth in a race. I bet Nosy would be surprised. Shall I get old Clawed to show off his speed? Why not!
“Let’s get airborne, Clawed,” she said to her husband, “and then you’ll be able to see how well Nosy is doing. Anyway, you need some exercise. You’re always hanging about.”
&nb
sp; Clawed looked doubtful.
“Come on, Daddy,” said Nosy. “I’d love to fly with you. Mom is a bit too fast for me.” But you won’t be, he thought. You’re too big and heavy and lazy.
Clawed yawned.
“Oh, all right,” he said. “If I must, I must,” and he unclasped his huge claws and dropped down till he was clear of all the branches of the tree. Then he glided out into the open, where the others joined him, and the three of them set off in line, Nosy in the middle, one parent on either side of him.
“Mom! Daddy! Where are we going?” he asked.
“Let’s go to the lake,” said Clawed. “I’m thirsty.”
“All right,” said Aviatrix, “and then we can go on to the Great Plain. Now then, Nosy, we’ll give you a start. Show Daddy how fast you can fly.”
Nosy beat his little wings as hard as he could and pulled away ahead of his parents.
“Good boy!” he heard them shout, and then came the flap of much, much larger wings as Aviatrix caught up to him and passed him. A moment later Clawed came thundering by. His wings, Nosy could see, were even bigger, much, much bigger, and although he beat them more slowly, they carried him along at such a rate that he in turn caught up with Aviatrix and swept past her.
Gosh! He’s fast! He must be the fastest pterodactyl in the world, thought Nosy.
In front of and below him now, he could see a great sheet of water. His parents were gliding down toward it. First his father and then his mother skimmed the surface of the lake, wings splayed wide, mouths wide open. They drank as they flew, and Nosy copied as best he could.
At the far side of the lake were trees that hung out over the water. The family settled there, to hang upside down on a convenient branch.
Nosy shook himself.
“I’m wet, Mom,” he said.
“You have to learn the trick of it,” said Aviatrix, “but you did well.”
Dinosaur Trouble Page 1
