Free Dinosaur Trouble by Dick King-Smith Page A

asleep. She hung herself head down at one side of him. Nosy, copying his mother, hung himself on the other side. He thought of saying, “Hello, Daddy,” but there didn’t seem much point, so he said nothing.
    Then suddenly Clawed said in a loud deep voice, “Watch out, everybody!”

    â€œWhat does Daddy mean?” asked Nosy.
    â€œHaven’t a clue,” replied his mother. “Your father is a somniloquist.”
    â€œWhat does ‘somniloquist’ mean, Mom?”
    â€œSomeone who talks in his sleep. I expect he’ll say something else in a minute,” and almost immediately, Clawed shouted, “T. rex approaching! Scramble! Scramble!”
    Aviatrix raised a wing and smacked her husband across his face.
    â€œWake up, Clawed!” she said. “You’re dreaming.”
    Clawed opened his eyes and shook his head as though to clear it.
    â€œOh, hello, Avy, old girl,” he said. “I was having a nightmare. Didn’t know you were here.”
    â€œI’m not the only one who’s here,” said Aviatrix. “Look on your other side.”
    Obediently Clawed turned his huge head, to see a very small head close by.

    â€œHello, Daddy,” said Nosy.
    â€œDaddy?” said Clawed. “What are you talking about, boy? What’s he mean, Avy?”
    â€œThis is our son, dear,” said Aviatrix proudly. “Our firstborn. Only hatched this morning, but already he’s a good flier.”
    â€œBecause I’m nidifugous, Daddy,” said Nosy.
    Clawed shook his head in puzzlement. “Sounds like one of those long words your mother uses,” he said. “Half the time I don’t understand what she’s going on about.”
    â€œYou never were very bright, dear,” said Aviatrix, “but I think our son is an infant prodigy.”
    â€œWhat does ‘infant prodigy’ mean, Mom?” asked Nosy.

    â€œA highly intelligent child,” replied his mother.
    Nosy felt very pleased at this. He couldn’t kick his little legs because he was hanging by them, but he flapped his little wings instead.
    â€œDon’t suppose he even knows what he is,” said Clawed grumpily. “What are you, boy, eh?”
    â€œI’m a pterodactyl, Daddy,” said Nosy. “Like you. Though I don’t suppose I’ll ever be as big as you.”
    Or as silly, said Aviatrix to herself, fond as I am of him .
    â€œWhat’s your name, boy?” asked Clawed. “If I know your mother, she’ll have given you a very long one.”
    â€œNo, Daddy,” said Nosy, “I’m just Nosy.”
    â€œAre you indeed?” said Clawed. “Poking your snout into other people’s business, eh? Well, ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”
    â€œNo, I mean, my name is Nosy.”

    â€œOh,” said Clawed. “Oh, I see. By the way, my name’s Clawed.”
    â€œI know,” said Nosy, “but I can’t call you that. You’re my father.”
    Clawed hung in silence for a while, deep in thought. Then he said, “You’re right, my son. You’d better stick to ‘Daddy.’ Take him away now, Avy. I haven’t had enough sleep.” And he closed his eyes.
    â€œCome on, then, Nosy,” said his mother. “Daddy’s tired,” and she dropped from the branch and spread her wings and flew off.
    Nosy followed.
    â€œWhere are we going now, Mom?” he asked.
    â€œTo get some breakfast.”
    â€œWhat sort of breakfast?”
    â€œBugs.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œFlies and beetles and gnats and midges and things. We are carnivores, you see.” “What does that mean?”

    â€œWe eat meat, including insects. There should be lots flying about on a nice warm morning like this. Specially if there should be a dead dinosaur lying about somewhere. There’ll be masses of flies around it,” said