The story of millions of years part 6


EARLY CRETACEOUS

North America….. 112 Million Years Ago

One foot and then the next came down, one, two, one, two. Left, right, left, right, eating up the barren earth; devouring it in swift footfalls, as the theropod gained on its prize; the huge, carnivorous beast propelled forward with effortless strides.

Now it came alongside its quarry, forty tons of fleeing flesh, the low, evening sun clipping the sail on the hunter’s back over the bulk of the sauropod’s swinging tail.

If that tail should lash out, it would knock the theropod from its feet; the vast beam of muscles more than capable of disabling the lighter beast.

But in full flight, the sauropod’s tail swung predictably from side to side, powering its pillar-like legs, the massive animal routed and scared, separated from its herd and tiring fast.

This is how the acrocanthosaur liked to hunt, the many, long, slow hours of plodding, trailing its prey, transformed for a few short seconds into chaos, the sauropod unknowing that it had the advantage of size.

The acrocanthosaur had matched the sauropod’s pace, exceeded it even, as it drew up alongside; its snout raised inhaling the pungent air. Now, and only now, it bared its teeth, the long, fragile blades too precious to risk in a frontal assault, the enamelled edges serrated like slender knives.

And then, in a heartbeat, it lost its opportunity, the ground beneath it suddenly dipping as the sauropod veered towards a river, seeking the safety of the water.

The acrocanthosaur could swim, perfectly well, but it wouldn’t have to, it was between the sauropod and the river, the huge, panicked animal already slowing as its wide, flat feet sank into the drying mud.

Its pursuer made different tracks, huge, three toed impressions, long claws sinking into the ooze and occasionally its heel, the giant creature walking on its toes, the flat of its foot seldom touching the ground.

It was digigrade, a toe walker, and it was hungry.

With a final turn of speed the sauropod strode away, its giant bulk never able to outpace the carnivore, its legs long, but under immense strain.

The predator leapt, misjudged its stride and leapt again, its feet sliding in the mud, its snout angled at the sauropod’s flank. It struck, its lightly constructed skull a marvel of engineering; a narrow box containing powerful muscles and quadrate bones that could flex its jaw monstrously wide.

But it had mistimed the strike, its skull rasping against the sauropod’s knobbly hide. And now it fell back, its long arms and triple-taloned hands useless until it had secured its prize.

It leapt again, primal hunger dictating its every move. But the sauropod had stepped out of reach, climbing the low, eroded bank, away from the shallow river and back onto the plain.

If there were no two other animals alive on the Earth in that moment, then that is how it would seem; the sauropod intent on escape, the theropod, ravaged by hunger. The world about them ceased to be, other than a landscape through which they travelled, fallen logs, broken trees and bushy shrubs passing in a blur.

For a third time the theropod struck, bouncing on its heavy tail, its long jaw snapping shut beside the sauropod’s thigh even as the less nimble animal once again evaded its bite.

The hunt had ended. The acrocanthosaur expending too much energy, stopping in its tacks to sniff around, sure there must be other food easier to find. And knowing the hunter was as uninterested now in its former prey as it had previously been to catch it, the sauropod, tired but alive, simply walked away.

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