Stephen vs. the dinosaurs: an epic tale of scientific discovery
Stephen set out from his hut early on Friday morning, dressed in modern clothes - his own clothes were growing threadbare, and were not so sturdy as they once were - with a pack containing provisions, his dinosaur textbook, and ammunition slung over his shoulder. He had his notebook in one pocket and his new pistol in the other, and was very much looking forward to an enlightening journey. He had been intending this trip ever since he first arrived on the island and Mr. Watanabe told him of the dinosaurs, but he had never had the opportunity until now.
The "fence," such as it was, seemed designed to keep dinosaurs in rather than keeping people out, and he entered with no difficulty at all. Although others had given him the impression that one might be attacked by the creatures as soon as one set foot into their territory, it was not the case at all; he was left quite unmolested as he made his way deeper into the jungle.
It was only when he heard some crashing about and bellowing in a nearby clearing that he took thought for his own safety. He was no great hand at climbing (as every crew-member on the Surprise would attest), but he managed to clamber up a tree, snagging his new shirt on the branches en route, and perch himself in a convenient juncture so that he could observe the proceedings. From here he could see that a large herbivore - a hadrosaurid, judging by its duck-bill and crest - was being attacked by a pack of large dromaeosaurids, the carnivores with the sickle-claws on their feet. It was fascinating to watch, and he took copious notes and sketches. Now he had proof that dromaeosaurids did indeed have feathers, like their avian descendents, and that dinosaurs were far more brightly-colored than anyone had realized.
Soon the herbivore had been dispatched and eaten, and smaller dinosaurs - clearly scavengers - moved in to eat their fill. By the time the corpse had finally been abandoned to flies and beetles, Stephen thought he might move on, until a herd of Triceratops (or some related species) ambled into the clearing to graze. Clearly this area was some sort of dinosaur thoroughfare, and he would do well to remain where he was.
So he observed throughout the day and into the night - there were nocturnal dinosaurs as well - and slept as comfortably as he was able in the branch of a tree. By morning he was stiff and exhausted, and thought he might move on. The clearing was deserted, and so he thought it might be safe to cross it into the jungle beyond. Keeping his hand on his pistol, he skirted around the edges of the clearing, but when he passed the hadrosaur corpse, he was surprised by a most remarkable dinosaur which had been crouching in the grass crunching on the creature's bones. Stephen had only a moment to admire its crest and bright feathers before it promptly attacked him.
It was not a large dinosaur, nor as fast as the dromaeosaurids, but it did have a large array of very sharp teeth, and Stephen swiftly drew his pistol. Distracted by the movement, the dinosaur sank its teeth into his arm - he felt a bone crack - but he managed to transfer the pistol to his other hand and shoot the creature squarely in the side of the head before it could tear his arm off. It staggered back, its beautiful and delicate crest shattered, and its legs folded beneath it, and it did not move again.
Stephen stared dumbly at the corpse for a moment, his pistol slack in his hand, and then looked down at his arm, which was bleeding profusely and hung at an odd angle. The pain had numbed his mind, but he knew one thing: he would have to leave the area before the scent of blood attracted more carnivores. Cradling his wounded arm against his body, he stumbled back through the jungle towards the safety of the fence, where he could put a tourniquet on his arm before making the long journey back to the clinic.
The "fence," such as it was, seemed designed to keep dinosaurs in rather than keeping people out, and he entered with no difficulty at all. Although others had given him the impression that one might be attacked by the creatures as soon as one set foot into their territory, it was not the case at all; he was left quite unmolested as he made his way deeper into the jungle.
It was only when he heard some crashing about and bellowing in a nearby clearing that he took thought for his own safety. He was no great hand at climbing (as every crew-member on the Surprise would attest), but he managed to clamber up a tree, snagging his new shirt on the branches en route, and perch himself in a convenient juncture so that he could observe the proceedings. From here he could see that a large herbivore - a hadrosaurid, judging by its duck-bill and crest - was being attacked by a pack of large dromaeosaurids, the carnivores with the sickle-claws on their feet. It was fascinating to watch, and he took copious notes and sketches. Now he had proof that dromaeosaurids did indeed have feathers, like their avian descendents, and that dinosaurs were far more brightly-colored than anyone had realized.
Soon the herbivore had been dispatched and eaten, and smaller dinosaurs - clearly scavengers - moved in to eat their fill. By the time the corpse had finally been abandoned to flies and beetles, Stephen thought he might move on, until a herd of Triceratops (or some related species) ambled into the clearing to graze. Clearly this area was some sort of dinosaur thoroughfare, and he would do well to remain where he was.
So he observed throughout the day and into the night - there were nocturnal dinosaurs as well - and slept as comfortably as he was able in the branch of a tree. By morning he was stiff and exhausted, and thought he might move on. The clearing was deserted, and so he thought it might be safe to cross it into the jungle beyond. Keeping his hand on his pistol, he skirted around the edges of the clearing, but when he passed the hadrosaur corpse, he was surprised by a most remarkable dinosaur which had been crouching in the grass crunching on the creature's bones. Stephen had only a moment to admire its crest and bright feathers before it promptly attacked him.
It was not a large dinosaur, nor as fast as the dromaeosaurids, but it did have a large array of very sharp teeth, and Stephen swiftly drew his pistol. Distracted by the movement, the dinosaur sank its teeth into his arm - he felt a bone crack - but he managed to transfer the pistol to his other hand and shoot the creature squarely in the side of the head before it could tear his arm off. It staggered back, its beautiful and delicate crest shattered, and its legs folded beneath it, and it did not move again.
Stephen stared dumbly at the corpse for a moment, his pistol slack in his hand, and then looked down at his arm, which was bleeding profusely and hung at an odd angle. The pain had numbed his mind, but he knew one thing: he would have to leave the area before the scent of blood attracted more carnivores. Cradling his wounded arm against his body, he stumbled back through the jungle towards the safety of the fence, where he could put a tourniquet on his arm before making the long journey back to the clinic.