It was a magnificent beast. He must have weighed close to 4 tons and was 15 feet in length. The massive head was probably 15 feet above the ground. It could move with the speed of an express train and its ferocity was unmatched by anything I had ever seen.
The creature had a fan shaped ridge on its back, quite pronounced, and it was amphibious. When wounded, like it was now, its first instinct was to flee to the water. It could stay under for a long time, then arise from the depths to wreak havoc again.
At the moment I was following its blood trail through the woods. The trees were not too close together but there were enough of them to block your view and give you that creepy feeling of imminent peril. The splotches of blood wound through the forest along the edge of cliffs. To my right and 50 feet below me was a sandy beach.
To follow the blood trail of a wounded carnivore is one of the most nerve-wracking things imaginable. Especially one as big as a spinosaurus.
My palms were wet as they rested on the stock of my double-barreled shotgun and I was cursing myself for not buying the heavy express rifle. My mouth was dry and my heartbeat was pounding in my temples. Constantly I looked to right and left with an occasional glance to my rear. The direction, not my anatomical part.
Thirty minutes previously I had hit the great beast with a total of 9 shots; albeit from a distance. The great red splotches I was following gave credence to the belief that I had hurt him, but how badly?
I almost jumped out of my skin as I heard footsteps patter on the grass and pine needles to my left. Swinging the heavy gun around in near panic, I almost shot a harmless dinosaur which was about the size of a sheep, with a similar level of ferocity.
Gathering my last shreds of machismo, I walked on. When I came to the edge of a cliff that stuck out a little way over the beach, I looked out to sea and glimpsed the creature's fin about a hundred yards off-shore. Then he began to swim toward me at an incredible rate of speed. By the time I brought my sights to bear on him, he had emerged from the water and was streaking toward the cliff I stood on. I knew that I had 5 shells left in my gun and determined that no one would find me dead with any of those shells left in my weapon.
Boom! A hit, no visible effects.
Boom! Another hit. The brute paused and then dashed right, then left. He seemed sorely hurt and confused.
Boom! Two shells were left now and the dinosaur was rushing up the cliff toward me. Even in my extreme fear I marveled at the incredible tenacity for life the beast showed.
Boom! Boom! The pellets flew almost into his teeth. He fell dead a few feet from me. I contacted the transport to arrange for them to fly in for the carcass. Then I placed my I-Pad on the desk and sat back with a great sigh of relief. It was time to go to bed.
From the green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
The creature had a fan shaped ridge on its back, quite pronounced, and it was amphibious. When wounded, like it was now, its first instinct was to flee to the water. It could stay under for a long time, then arise from the depths to wreak havoc again.
At the moment I was following its blood trail through the woods. The trees were not too close together but there were enough of them to block your view and give you that creepy feeling of imminent peril. The splotches of blood wound through the forest along the edge of cliffs. To my right and 50 feet below me was a sandy beach.
To follow the blood trail of a wounded carnivore is one of the most nerve-wracking things imaginable. Especially one as big as a spinosaurus.
My palms were wet as they rested on the stock of my double-barreled shotgun and I was cursing myself for not buying the heavy express rifle. My mouth was dry and my heartbeat was pounding in my temples. Constantly I looked to right and left with an occasional glance to my rear. The direction, not my anatomical part.
Thirty minutes previously I had hit the great beast with a total of 9 shots; albeit from a distance. The great red splotches I was following gave credence to the belief that I had hurt him, but how badly?
I almost jumped out of my skin as I heard footsteps patter on the grass and pine needles to my left. Swinging the heavy gun around in near panic, I almost shot a harmless dinosaur which was about the size of a sheep, with a similar level of ferocity.
Gathering my last shreds of machismo, I walked on. When I came to the edge of a cliff that stuck out a little way over the beach, I looked out to sea and glimpsed the creature's fin about a hundred yards off-shore. Then he began to swim toward me at an incredible rate of speed. By the time I brought my sights to bear on him, he had emerged from the water and was streaking toward the cliff I stood on. I knew that I had 5 shells left in my gun and determined that no one would find me dead with any of those shells left in my weapon.
Boom! A hit, no visible effects.
Boom! Another hit. The brute paused and then dashed right, then left. He seemed sorely hurt and confused.
Boom! Two shells were left now and the dinosaur was rushing up the cliff toward me. Even in my extreme fear I marveled at the incredible tenacity for life the beast showed.
Boom! Boom! The pellets flew almost into his teeth. He fell dead a few feet from me. I contacted the transport to arrange for them to fly in for the carcass. Then I placed my I-Pad on the desk and sat back with a great sigh of relief. It was time to go to bed.
From the green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
Comments
Post a Comment