The story of millions of years part 5


LATE JURASSIC

North America…..145 Million Years Ago

Dust devils, whipped up by a warm wind, scoured the plain; swirling cones of fine, red earth, rising and falling, vanishing then reappearing, ascending into the sky like twisted rope, chewing up the barren ground.

They posed no threat to the leviathans around which they danced; huge animals, heads low, eyes all but shut against the relentless biting wind.

The herd had a place to go, moving inexorably onward towards an oasis of distant trees; a stand of conifers and shrubby cycads, a barrier to the river beyond.

There they could cross, the journey etched in their small minds, as permanent as the folds in their skin.

The giants had made this march before, many times, following a call only they could hear; crossing the plains and prairies towards a single goal. There were thirty sauropods in all, diplodocids, their wide flanks the colour of dust; rust-red and hot in the Jurassic sun.

But they were not alone, flies, ticks and other less welcome parasites all making the same journey across the flat expanse of future North America.

Small pterosaurs came and went, landing and alighting from the giants’ backs, and far behind, in the haze and dust, other beasts of a different nature followed.

The matriarch steered the herd towards the trees, the ground beneath them transforming from red to green as gradually they left the desert and began walking through a plain of ferns; low, wind-blown denizens of the forest margin, absorbing whatever moisture they could from the parched ground.  Here and there more imposing plants presented themselves, their long, blade-like leaves tough to eat, and armed with a base of thorns. These were cycads, some growing metres tall, as tall as the sauropods themselves, which, heedless of the disturbance they caused, barrelled on, crushing the ecosystem beneath their feet.

Fleet-footed crocodiles bolted from the shade, escaping a certain end, and small two-legged dinosaurs, dwarfed by the passing herd, lifted interested heads, ever cognisant of what was going on.

The herd had arrived, and on they went, destroying all in their path. They were visitors here, annual arrivals, dimly remembered in the resident’s repetitious lives, travellers that wandered the margins. Too large to live beneath the trees, they moved from place to place, from forest to forest; those dense clusters of life that clung by thirsty roots to the banks of rivers and streams.

Several long-tailed pterosaurs flew in low after feeding in a distant lake, eager at the end of a hot day to reach the sanctuary of the trees, their small, black shadows, traversing the behemoths’ sides, darts of darkness racing across uneven ground before fleeing on ahead, lost in the tangles of vegetation.

From the sky, their world glowed; the hot orange sun setting fire to landscape draped in rivers; a thousand golden braids meandering across the flat, unforgiving land.

The sauropods were feeding now, finally, browsing indiscriminately, their long necks conveying heads from plant to plant, a row of peg-like teeth raking off leaves to be fermented in their giant gut.

Now and again one would lift its head and listen, cease the endless swishing of its tail and look around. And then resume its feast; sure it was safe, for now.

They lived in an unsafe world, size alone their defence, but even size bore its scars, and many in their number displayed hideous wounds; long serrated lines along their flanks, raw testament to a time they were feasted on, alive.

All that ate them today were flies; swarms as black as coal, congregating around their eyes, so that it was easier to keep them shut while slender teeth pulled at stubborn leaves.

The big dinosaurs were not alone; their presence offering sanctuary to smaller beasts that kept their distance from the sauropods’ massive feet. And soon other mouths were feeding; hypsilophodonts summoned from beneath the trees. These bipedal dinosaurs could easily be crushed, but with keen eyes and nimble limbs, they took advantage of the cool night, and the opportunity to feed far and wide.

Beneath the large moon they ate; a society of herbivores, united by diet, still warm from the Jurassic sun, their world transformed from gold to silver as moonlight shone on a million waxy leaves. The rivers too shone silver, wide, watery highways concealing strange creatures within. And tomorrow, when tomorrow came, the sauropods would ford that river and their journey would resume.

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