It's Not a Dinosaur!

by Stacy McAnulty

“You know, there are rattlesnakes out there.” He points to the path we’ll be taking. “And scorpions. And poisonous lizards.”

  “I know,” Dad says with a shaky voice.

  “That’s enough, Aaron,” Gram says. “They’ll be fine.”

  Aaron pulls a small notebook out of his back pocket. It says: All the Things That Can Kill You in Wyoming by Aaron Crabtree.

  “Just in case,” he says.

  Sam takes the notebook. “Cool.”

  “You better go before more news crews arrive,” PopPop says. “I shut the gate, but they might ignore the Closed sign.”

  I put a leash on Peanut. Dad, Sam, and I say goodbye. We hug Gram and PopPop. Saurus sits on the front porch.

  “Are you coming with us or not?” I ask. “You have to walk all on your own.” Usually, Saurus is lazy and only travels in her catmobile. It’s actually just an old stroller.

  Saurus meows. I think that means no.

  “Let’s get going,” Dad says. “We’ll see you in three days.”

  Sam and I follow Dad. I think I have a blister already. Saurus stays on the porch.

  “Why aren’t we taking the truck?” I ask again.

  “Spies might follow it,” Sam says.

  “They could also follow us walking,” I say.

  “There’s a path that leads right to the river,” Dad says. “It’s just a few miles and all on DECoW property. I don’t think there’s much of a chance of our being followed.”

  “Dad, if you’d found the Nothosaurus again, do you think you would have kept him?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” Dad answers. “He was too big to fit in our bathtub.”

  “But maybe Gram and PopPop could have built him a home. Like they’re doing for Peanut,” I say.

  “Maybe,” Dad says. “But the Nothosaurus was surviving just fine in the wild.”

  Peanut drags behind a little. Sometimes I forget that he’s still a baby. I pick him up. I’m tired too, but I can carry him for a little bit. Then it’ll be Sam’s turn.

  “Do you think Peanut should be in the wild?” I ask.

  “He’s young. He still needs you,” Dad says.

  Peanut licks my cheek. I think he agrees.

  We pitch our tent near the river. We are at the very edge of DECoW land.

  “Bart’s River Monster Tours is just up the path,” Dad says.

  “Is that where you saw the Nothosaurus?” Sam asks.

  “Actually, no. The Nothosaurus was a few miles away, near the state park.” He points in the other direction.

  “Dad, wouldn’t a Nothosaurus live in salt water?” I ask. “That’s what I’ve read.”

  “Paleontologists have been wrong before,” Dad says. “Our gear is safe here. Let’s go find Bart.”

  I pick up Peanut and shove him in my empty backpack.

  “Sorry, little guy.” He won’t be little much longer. Soon I’ll need an extra-large backpack, and then I’ll need a tractor trailer.

  We hike past trees and more trees and more trees. The only sound comes from the river, the birds, and the dinosaur on my back.

  Peanut cries. To cover his sound, Sam sings. I don’t know which is more painful.

  Dad stops. “There it is.”

  He points at an old log cabin. A sign nailed to the corner reads Bart’s River Monster Tours. One motorboat is tied to the dock.

  “Try to be quiet, Peanut.” I reach into my backpack and give him a carrot to munch on.

  The front door of the cabin is open. We step inside. A man is leaning over a small TV in the corner.

  “Hello,” Dad says.

  “Be with you in a second,” the man says without turning around.

  I step closer so I can see what’s on the TV. It’s DECoW! A reporter and about a thousand other people are standing in front of the closed gate.

  We all watch and listen.

  “There have been no dinosaur sightings,” the reporter says. “And the owners are being very quiet. We’ve been told to expect a press conference in the next day or two.”

  “Can you believe that?” the man says, still staring at the screen. “The TV people are going nuts over a possible dinosaur sighting. I think I’m going to change the name of my place to Bart’s River Dinosaur Tours.”

  “But you don’t have a dinosaur,” I say.

  “If it’ll bring in customers, I’ll call it a unicorn.” He finally turns around. “I’m Bart.”

  Dad shakes his hand. “You don’t remember me?”

  Bart squints hard.

  “I’m Brian Mudd,” Dad says. “And this is my son, Frank. And my niece Sam.”

  “Brian Mudd!” Bart exclaims. “I haven’t seen you since middle school. You didn’t have a beard then, did ya?”

  “I didn’t.” Dad laughs.

  Bart nods slowly like he’s thinking. “Of course I remember you. You were there the first time I ever saw the river monster. You were the one who scared it off.”

  “It’s not a monster,” I say.

  “What did you call it again?” Bart asks Dad.

  “A Nothosaurus,” Dad says. “Which is not a dinosaur and certainly not a monster.”

  “Dinosaurs didn’t live in the water. Pre-historic reptiles did,” I explain. “Dinosaurs were terrestrial. That means they lived only on land and not in rivers or oceans or lakes. And they didn’t fly either. Pterosaurs were flying pre-historic reptiles, not dinosaurs.”

  “He thinks he’s an expert,” Sam says.

  “I am.”

  Sam ignores me and asks Bart, “Do you have any pictures of your river dinosaur?”

  “It’s not a dinosaur,” I mumble. Just then Peanut gives me a karate chop to my back. So I keep quiet.

  “Sure do. All along that wall.” He points behind us.

  Sam and I hurry over. I’m careful not to turn my back. I don’t want Bart to see the wiggling in my backpack.

  The pictures are terrible. Dad’s pencil drawing is much better. Bart’s photos are blurry or dark or taken from far, far, far away.

  “This looks like a log,” Sam says.

  “And this looks like an old tire,” I add.

  “The river monster is fast,” Bart says. “Like lightning. Now, can I interest you in a deluxe tour? It includes iced tea and beef jerky.”

  “A standard tour is fine,” Dad says. He takes out his wallet.

  Bart taps a sign near the cash register. River Monster Sightings Not Guaranteed! NO REFUNDS!

  “Understood,” Dad says.

  Bart makes us put on smelly life jackets. Then we follow him down to the dock. Peanut doesn’t get one. He’s still stuck in my backpack.

  “I don’t trust this guy,” I whisper to Sam.

  “But you trust your dad, right? They saw a Nothosaurus once. I bet we see it again.” Sam steps into the boat first.

  “Are you ready for the ride of your life?” Bart asks.

  Only Sam answers. “Yes!”

  The boat’s name is the Monster Catcher. It has lots of scratches and dents. Bart promises that all the holes have been patched.

  Sam and I sit up front. Dad is in the middle, and Bart works the motor in the back. I unzip my backpack a little and put it on the seat next to me. Peanut has fallen asleep. Baby dinosaurs need lots of rest.

  “Keep your eyes open,” Bart says. “The river monster likes to hide in the shadows.”

  But we don’t see anything except bugs and birds and more bugs. I should have packed a fly swatter.

  “When’s the last time you spotted the river dinosaur?” Sam asks. She smacks a mosquito.

  “Just yesterday. He was in that cove up ahead.” Bart drives the boat slowly toward the spot. “We have to be real quiet.”

  I keep my eyes focused on the water. There are no signs of any prehistoric creatures.

  “Look!” Bart yells suddenly.

  Splash! The sound comes from behind tall weeds.

  “I didn’t see. Was that the Notho?” Sam asks.

&
nbsp; “Sure was,” Bart answers.

  “Let’s go check it out,” Sam says. “Before it gets away.”

  “Can’t do that,” Bart replies. “It’s dangerous to go into the monster’s territory.”

  “Please,” I beg. “I really need to see it, not just hear it.”

  “Surely, you can get a little closer,” Dad says. “If we’re careful.”

  “Sorry, folks.” Bart turns the boat around. And Sam stands up.

  “I demand to see the Notho. I’ll jump in if I have to.” She plugs her nose like she’s about to go off a diving board.

  The boat rocks, and my stomach feels mushy.

  “You need to sit in the boat!” I yell. “That’s a rule.” At least I think it’s a rule.

  Dad reaches for Sam, and the boat rocks even more. All the moving and yelling wakes up Peanut. He pokes his head out of the backpack. I push him back in.

  “Don’t make me jump!” Sam warns.

  “If you get in the river, the monster might eat you,” Bart says.

  “The Nothosaurus is a fish eater,” I say, taking my eyes off of Peanut for a second. “It wouldn’t eat a human girl. Probably.”

  Peanut leaps from the backpack. He lands on Sam’s seat.

  “Whoa! What in the world is that?” Now Bart is standing up too.

  “Nothing!” I grab Peanut and shove him under the seat.

  “Everyone sit down.” Dad holds out his hands for balance.

  “That’s the dinosaur! The one from DECoW.” Bart’s eyes are huge, and I worry that they might fall out of his face.

  “It’s our ugly cat,” Sam says.

  “Meow,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand.

  Bart shakes his head, and then he points a finger in Dad’s face. “Wait a second. I remember now. You lived at the dinosaur center.”

  “No!” I shout. “You’re confused. My dad grew up on a cactus ranch.”

  Bart gives me an angry look.

  “Everyone, relax,” Dad says. “And please sit down.”

  Bart wipes his forehead and takes a seat. Then Dad tells him everything, which I think is a really bad idea.

  “Now that you know all the Mudd secrets, can you please take us closer to the Notho?” I ask. Peanut crawls out from under the bench and sits in my lap.

  “I really can’t take you to the monster,” Bart says quietly.

  “Why?” Dad asks.

  “You’ll see.” Bart drives the boat around the cove to where we heard the noise.

  I lean over the edge of the boat, looking for the creature. But instead of seeing a Notho, I see a brick tied to a lever. The contraption has a long rope that sinks into the water. Bart must have pulled the rope and caused the splash.

  “You tried to trick us!” I yell.

  Sam shakes her head. “I’ll never trust any grown-ups again. Never.”

  “I just…,” Bart mumbles. “The river monster…it’s very shy. I’ve only seen it a few times.”

  “What? How do you stay in business?” Sam throws her hands in the air.

  “I also offer fishing tours. I always catch a lot of trout. That I promise you.” Bart smiles big like he does in his commercials.

  “When is the last time you saw the Notho?” Dad asks.

  “Almost two years ago,” Bart says. “But that might have been a big fish. The best look I ever got was when we were kids.”

  Dad hangs his head, and his shoulders droop.

  I believe Bart is telling the truth this time. That means the Nothosaurus is probably long gone.

  Bart drives the boat up and down the river for another hour. There’s no sign of the Nothosaurus.

  “Why are you worried about finding my river dinosaur if you already have a land dinosaur?” Bart asks.

  “For science,” I answer. “We want to know what prehistoric creatures are still around.”

  “And Uncle Brian wants to prove that he really saw a river dinosaur when he was a boy,” Sam adds.

  “I don’t think we’re going to prove anything today,” Bart says. “It’s time we turn this boat around.”

  The ride back is quiet, until Peanut suddenly gets excited. He jumps onto the edge of the boat and looks into the water below. He whines and makes a clicking noise in his throat. I’ve heard him do this before. I stare out at the water, hoping to see what Peanut senses.

  “Is he okay?” Bart asks.

  “Maybe he’s seasick,” Sam says.

  Peanut growls. It’s the loudest sound he’s ever made.

  I reach for him. But before I can grab him, the boat flips over. For a split second, I’m flying through the air. Then I’m in the river.

  Water gets in my nose and mouth. I kick to get to the surface. I take a gulp of air.

  “Everyone okay?” Dad yells. We’re all in the river. We bob up and down, thanks to the life jackets.

  “Peanut!” I yell. “Where are you?” He doesn’t have a life jacket. And he’s only ever been swimming in a baby pool where he can touch the bottom.

  “There he is!” Sam yells.

  Peanut is crawling out of the water and onto the bank. He must be a good swimmer to have gotten all the way across by himself.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  The Monster Catcher is floating upside down. The river carries it away.

  “We must have hit something,” Dad says. He swims toward me and Sam.

  “Or something hit us,” Bart says. “I’ve been giving tours for ten years, and this has never happened.”

  “Do you think the Nothosaurus flipped the boat?” Sam asks.

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Bart says. “Now I better get my boat before it floats to Montana.” Bart swims away.

  Sam, Dad, and I dog-paddle toward shore. Peanut is waiting for us in the tall grass.

  “Dad, do you think it was the Nothosaurus?” I ask.

  “It would take a big animal to—”

  “Whoa!” Sam screams. “Something bumped my leg.”

  “You’re just trying to scare us,” I say. At least that’s what I hope she’s doing.

  But then something brushes my leg too. The water is too cloudy and brown to see what it is.

  “There’s something in the water!” I yell.

  “Probably just a fish,” Dad says. We all swim faster.

  Peanut is running back and forth on the riverbank. He whines and makes the clicking sound in his throat. He did the same thing when we discovered a Velociraptor a few weeks ago. Either he can sense other prehistoric animals, or he’s calling to them. I wish he’d be quiet until we get out of the river.

  “If it is a Nothosaurus, it doesn’t eat people,” I say. “It eats fish.” Of course, there weren’t people when the Notho was first on the planet. Maybe now it does eat humans.

  “Just keep swimming,” Dad says. He gives me a little push.

  Finally, my feet touch bottom, and I rush out of the river. Sam and Dad are right behind me. We turn around. Bart pulls his boat toward the shore.

  “I’d better help him,” Dad says.

  I pick up a wet Peanut. We stare at the river. I want to see whatever flipped the boat and tickled my leg. Now that I’m safe on land.

  “Look!” Sam yells. But it’s not a Nothosaurus she’s pointing to. It’s her plastic microphone. She splashes into the water to grab it.

  I just shake my head.

  Sam smiles as she gets out of the river for a second time.

  “This is Sam McCarthy reporting from the river where I was almost eaten alive by a Nothosaurus, a prehistoric shark dinosaur.” She talks to the invisible camera that she thinks follows her everywhere.

  “A Nothosaurus is not a shark or a dinosaur,” I say, also to the invisible camera.

  “Well, whatever it is, we’re going to find it,” Sam says.

  That night, we build a campfire and hang our clothes to dry. PopPop packed us stuff for s’mores.

  Sam gives Peanut a marshmallow.

  “He’
s not supposed to have sugar,” I say. “It’s not healthy.”

  “But he really wanted one,” Sam says.

  I write in my dino journal that Peanut ate a marshmallow. Gram will want to know in case he breaks out in a rash or something. We keep track of everything he eats and what comes out the other end. It’s a gross job, but that’s science.

  “It’s getting late,” Dad says. “Take Peanut for a quick walk so he can go to the bathroom, and then we’ll turn in.”

  “Okay,” I say. I put the leash on Peanut and grab a flashlight. I walk him behind a few trees.

  “Go potty,” I tell him. He doesn’t understand what that means. His English isn’t very good.

  Peanut pulls on the leash. He runs to the left. He runs to the right. He circles a tree. He digs at a rock.

  Snap! It comes from behind us. I shine my flashlight in that direction. There’s nothing.

  “Hurry up, please,” I whisper.

  Finally, Peanut goes to the bathroom. Number one. I’ll have to write it in the notebook when we get back to the tent. But Peanut isn’t ready to go back. He pulls me toward the river.

  “No.” I tug the leash.

  Peanut yanks, and I have to hold really tight. Then he whines and makes the clicking sound in his throat. The hair on my arms stands up.

  I grab Peanut and run back to the tent. I stumble over a root but get right back up.

  “Frank, what’s wrong?” Dad asks.

  “There’s something…” I point back at the trees. But I never saw anything. I only heard a twig snap. That could have been a squirrel or just the wind. I shouldn’t make Dad nervous.

  “Never mind,” I say.

  Dad puts out the fire with a bucket of river water. Sam and I clean up all the food. We don’t want any animals coming into camp as we sleep. Then we all crawl into the tent. Dad kisses us good night. A minute later, he’s snoring.

  “Hey,” Sam whispers just as I’m falling asleep.

  “Go to sleep,” I say.

  “You saw something when you took Peanut for a walk,” she says. “Didn’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t.” I would turn over if Peanut weren’t on top of me.