Morning HuntA Story by Lukie LeDouxThe story of a prehistoric morning, and the struggle to survive.North America. 65
M.Y.A The air
was still on that ancient morning. The
sun had just started on its path across the sky, lifting the night’s chill, and
turning the dew into a mist that clung to the ground and hovered around the
tops of the conifers. The ground began
to tremble as the herd appeared on the horizon.
Nearly a thousand duck-billed edmontosaurus marched in from the west in
time to catch the rains in the eastern forest; just as they have for thousands
of years. The herd
had traveled over lands filled with some of the most ferocious creatures in
history: tyrannosaurus, deinonychus, daspletosaurus among others. They crossed dark seas filled overflowing
with monsters like megalodon, tylosaurus, and mosasaurus. They faced a thousand terrors and just as
many hungry mouths filled with gnashing teeth, but they had yet to face the
most terrifying predators on their journey. As the
thunderous herd approached the edge of the forest, they lead animals let out a
trumpeting call, signaling the rest to stop.
The edmontosauruses stood quietly, ready to bolt at the first sign of
danger. The younger dinosaurs, hatchlings from recent
years, stayed in the center of the group.
Although they weighed upwards of a ton and could defend themselves, they
were terribly inexperienced. . . and being inexperienced could be fatal. One of
the juveniles, a two year old, squeezed between the massive adults to the edge
of the herd. Once there, it peered into
the primeval forest with big, cow-like eyes.
Something caught its attention and it swung its big head over to get a
better look. The thing, whatever it was,
was wonderfully camouflaged. It was
covered in short, brown and green feathers and it blended seamlessly with the vegetation
around it. The only things betraying its
camouflage were its eyes, big and yellow with brown irises. The big yellow eyes, the eyes of a predator,
stared right back at the young dinosaur.
The juvenile
yelped in surprise as it realized what it was seeing, what was seeing it: a
troodon. The hunters mobilized. Three nimble shapes darted from the forest
and into the herd, scattering the massive dinosaurs. The troodons were many times smaller than the
edmontosauruses, but what they lacked in size they made up for in cunning. The tro’s separated a smaller group from the
herd,, keeping them pressed against the wall of trees. Three
tro’s against a dozen edmontosauruses.
The intimidation worked, and one edmontosaurus bolted from the group and
went crashing into the forest. The rest
of the edmontosauruses charged back towards the herd. The troodons remained where they were. Their job was done. The trap card had been pulled. The
edmontosaurus rushed loudly through the forest, all four feet pounding on the
dark earth. A tro’ darted from the
foliage to the dinosaur’s right and slashed at its legs, splashing blood onto
the ferns that grew on the forest floor.
The edmontosaurus bellowed in response and veered to the left. The
edmontosaurus burst through the vegetation into a clearing, wounded, and
breathing in ragged gasps. The troodon
that attacked it was nowhere to be seen.
The enormous dinosaur stopped to rest.
It could still hear the herd in the distance. With a little luck it could return and rejoin
them. Before
it could begin moving, something landed on its back. Claws ripped into the giant animal. It looked up in time to see four more tro’s
leap from the branches above it to join the one on its back. The five troodons tore at the thrashing beast
with serrated teeth and razor-like claws.
One of the hunters climbed across the dinosaur’s flank to its throat and
ripped into the soft flesh, instantly drenching it in hot, crimson blood. The
edmontosaurus collapsed to the ground in a bloody mound of flesh, its chest
trembling with each labored breath. As
it lost consciousness it watched the other four tro’s enter the clearing and
join the rest of the pack in the grisly feast. Hours
later, the nine troodons were resting with bellies full of meat. One of the females returned to the corpse and
tore a large chunk of flesh from it. She
carried it in her jaws out of the clearing and into the forest. She trekked across the dappled forest floor
and came to a stop at a hollow log, placing the meat on the ground in front of
it. She looked inside and a dozen yellow
and brown eyes looked back. Six baby
troodons, each covered in downy, gray fluff, waddled sleepily out of the log
and began chewing on the meat. The
mother troodon nuzzled each of them, ruffling their downy feathers. The
sky, which was clear and blue as the pristine ocean that morning, was now
gray. A warm rain began to fall, causing
the ferns to quiver. The mother troodon
tossed the meat into the log and pushed her offspring inside too. Once inside, they ate and watched the small,
primitive mammals scurry around as they tried to escape the rain. None of them though about change, about those
mammals ruling the planet. The ancient
sun would rise the next morning, the mist would cling to the ground, and they
would continue living. Just as all
dinosaurs had done for millions of years before. © 2013 Lukie LeDouxAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on July 14, 2013 Last Updated on July 16, 2013 Tags: Dinosaurs, troodon, edmontosaurus, pangea, paleontology, hunt, hunting, prehistoric AuthorLukie LeDouxLake Charles, LAAboutI'm Lukie and I like to write about dinosaurs, monsters and the like. I'm fascinated by biology and science and sometimes my writing will explore the gray areas of those subjects. If any of the.. more..Writing
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