New Blood chapter 2: The Earth Cracks

Period: Late Triassic (Early Norian)

Date: 220,000,001 BC

September: The Dry Season

Location: Western Pangaea





It is now five months since there was any rain, and the river's level is falling. It used to flow past the bank where the Kraterokheirodon have burrowed, but now it is 60 feet from their entrance. Here and there dried clam beds bear witness to its increasingly rapid retreat. The old riverbed is a dry red mud and is beginning to crack in the savage Triassic Sun. Occasionally, small holes betray the presence of buried Lungfish. A month ago, when the river shallows began to stagnate, they burrowed down into the mud, wrapping themselves in a cocoon and waiting out the dry season in a dormant state. If need be, they can survive like this for several dry seasons, as long as they are not detected by something like a Coelophysis and dug out.
Despite the dryness, the river's edge still buzzes with Insect life. Dragonfly-like Odonates patrol their hunting ranges above the Equisetales, catching slower Insects on the fly. Odonatopterans have existed for more than 100 million years and although these brightly-colored species are large, with six-inch wingspans, they are nothing compared to their giant ancestral cousins. Meganeura, an Odonatopteran that lived during the Carboniferous period, had a wingspan of up to 2.1 feet.
On a log beside one of the more dense patches of Equisetales sits a male Peteinosaurus. He belongs to a group of Animals called Pterosaurs, which are flying Reptiles. Pterosaurs are not the first Reptiles, or the first Vertebrates, to take to the air since there are plenty of Kuehneosaurs gliding between column-like Conifers nearby (gliding Reptiles like them have existed since the Permian), but they are the first Vertebrates to develop a flapping flight.
The Peteinosaurus sits flat on the log with his head and neck following the Insect activity above him. A dense mat of short, fine hair-like pycnofibers covers his head and shoulders and runs down his back. He holds onto the log with three short, clawed fingers on each hand. His last finger has grown into a long spar that supports the leading edge of his wing. While he sits, it is folded up across his back, just touching its partner on the other side. Attached to this is the thin skin of the wing, which runs from the tip of his wing finger down to his ankles.
Everything about this Creature is delicate, from his almost transparent wings to his paper-thin bones. The Peteinosaurus has a wingspan of around two feet with a straight tail about eight inches long, but he weighs little more than 3.5 ounces. In pursuit of flight, Pterosaurs have shed everything that might weigh them down. In fact, they have to keep their wings folded, otherwise they would have trouble staying on the ground. Since they have to eat, Pterosaurs still have relatively large mouths, sometimes about two inches long. He eats mainly Insects, and something like a Odonate is the perfect size.
Suddenly, the Peteinosaurus rocks on to his back legs and jumps. His wrists flick out his wings and he is airborne. His large eyes have already picked out his prey, a Dragonfly-like Odonate, and though his wings beat faster, he holds his head still, tracking the victim. Only four seconds after taking off, the Pterosaur intercepts the Odonate, grasping its thorax and upper abdomen in his mouth with a crunch.
It is noon and the temperatures do not get much hotter in this part of Pangaea. All the moisture is being sucked mostly out of the vegetation and the shade offers little relief for the inhabitants. The heat is even beginning to reach the Kraterokheirodon in their deep burrow, and parents and young sleep fitfully. The warm mammallike scent has attracted the attentions of two male Coelophysis, who approach the entrance with care. The larger of the two cautiously puts his snout into the tunnel. About one foot inside it is met by the father Kraterokheirodon coming out. The larger Coelophysis barks in alarm as he tumbles down the bank away from the angry parent. The father Cynodont remains half out of his burrow, snarling at the two Dinosaurs.
The two Coelophysis know this Cynodont is too large and powerful to be an easy meal for them, so they trot down the bank and stop about 50 yards away, but continue to watch the hole. Eventually, the father Kraterokheirodon returns to his agitated family, leaving the two Dinosaurs to watch.
The heat of the day passes slowly and by sunset a temperature difference between the high scrubland and the river valley sets up a breeze. The Kraterokheirodon wake and the parents groom each other. The three pups are now taking on many adult features, the dark, beady eyes, fine hair on their backs, and specialized teeth for chewing and biting. For some weeks now they have been making short excursions to the burrow entrance, playing under the watchful eye of one parent while the other goes out hunting. This evening the father climbs out of the nest to check for danger. The two Dinosaurs have disappeared, but on the opposite side of the river several Redondasaurus are tearing at a Placerias carcass in the water. The father Cynodont picks up the smell of meat in the air and scampers down the bank to get a clearer view.
The three pups have started to clamber out of the burrow after their father. The first, a little male, sits at the entrance, taking in the unfamiliar smells. A new male Coelophysis that has been standing motionless among the trees steps down and plucks the pup from the entrance. The pinch of the Dinosaur's razor-like teeth is the first and last time the pup will feel true physical pain and he squeals with alarm. The father Kraterokheirodon launches himself up the bank, but it is too late. The Coelophysis accelerates down the riverbank. Even carrying food, he can reach speeds of about 18 miles per hour or more and the low-slung father Cynodont has no hope of catching him. Soon the squeals stop.
Meanwhile, the burrow is under siege. Even though the rest of the Kraterokheirodon family retreated inside after the attack, there were more Coelophysis among the trees and now they are determined to flush out the occupants. The father Kraterokheirodon returns to scatter four or five large Coelophysis around the burrow. He then backs in, snapping at the Dinosaurs around him. It is a lost cause. As soon as he disappears the Coelophysis approach the hole and start to scratch away its edges. Several times during the night the Cynodonts try to chase the Dinosaurs away, but they keep coming back. By morning the tunnel is only half as long as it was.
Inside, the parent Kraterokheirodon react to their change in fortune in the only way guaranteed to help them survive. The mother kills and cannibalizes their pups, the father joining in. Though this may seem strange, it is done efficiently and without delay. At the point when escape with the young becomes impossible, it is only sensible that the Kraterokheirodon parents should benefit from all that nutrition, even though this may cause some malnutrition. Under extreme circumstances like this, the drive to nurture is overtaken by the need to survive.
The Kraterokheirodon choose the early evening to leave the burrow. The flock of Coelophysis is surprised by their exit, and although a large female attempts to chase them, a raking blow from the male Kraterokheirodon dissuades her. The other Coelophysis start to dig at the hole again. The attractive smell of Cynodont inside will hold the flock's attention for some time, until the burrow turns cold. Then they will lose interest.
While the fleeing Cynodonts push their way through the Equisetales, they startle a resting male Peteinosaurus. The little Pterosaur flits low over the river, then rises up the other side of the valley. Below him stretches the Fern scrubland. The scenery has changed radically since the end of the wet season. Instead of the lush Fern carpet, only a few dull green and gray patches survive. Large areas have been torn up mostly by the Placerias and in the distance, a cloud of dust betrays the presence of a feeding herd. In the dry scrubland soil the Placerias method of rooting creates so much dust that they are almost hidden from view. Although there seems to be little nutritional value left on the scrubland, many of the Ferns store water in their roots and this is what the Placerias want.
Nearby, in a Cycad thicket, a male Postosuchus is lying uncomfortably in the shade of the broad Cycad leaves. His mouth is thick with frothy saliva and his usually sleek brown scales are spattered with blood and dust. He shifts his hindlimbs to reveal a long, deep tear over his giant thigh muscles. The only thing that could have produced such a wound is the tusk of a fully-grown Placerias.
During the dry season, food gets scarce for all the Animals, including Postosuchus. Not only can the Placerias tusks gore easily, but also their beaks are powerful enough to break certain bones. This male must have been driven by hunger to try a bold attack on a herd of Placerias. The wound is several days old and there are signs that is has become infected. At least with the gathering darkness, the Postosuchus can expect some relief from the heat, but in all other respects his situation is about to get worse.
Postosuchus are fiercely territorial. In the dry season, males and females must patrol an area of many square miles and ensure their food supply. Female territories tend to be smaller but more rigorously defended than those of males. Territorial battles can be violent, sometimes resulting in the death of one of the combatants. This protectionism extends even to unhatched rivals. If an adult of either sex comes across a nest of Postosuchus eggs that are not its own, it will probably cannibalistically devour most of them and destroy those it cannot eat. Juveniles tend to grow up in dense forests, where they can avoid direct contact with adults, but should they wander into more open areas, the adults will sometimes cannibalize them too.
A female Postosuchus, who has been hunting in the river valley, has been drawn up onto the scrubland in the hope of finding stragglers in the Placerias herds. She is wary since she knows she is in another of her kind's territory. She stalks toward the herd and moves within 50 yards of the grove, where the wounded male is watching her intently. Suddenly, she picks up his scent in the evening breeze. She arches her back and shows her teeth. When he sees this threat posture, he limps out of the Cycads, bellowing and waving his armored tail. While he comes closer to the female, he starts throwing dust at her with his forelimbs, snapping aggressively.
However, she does not yield. She is younger than the wounded male and, as a female, slightly larger. Since he has failed to rear up even higher, and because she can smell the wound on his leg, she feels bold. Postosuchus hindlimbs are much longer than the front ones and they frequently rear up high in confrontations, revealing their distinctive yellow-striped underbelly and making them look more impressive. Sometimes two individuals will wrestle with their bodies almost high in the air, clawing at each other in a trial of strength.
The female rears up high, issuing her own threats. The deep wound on the male's hindlimb makes him incapable of matching her challenge. He tries to arch his back to intimidate the intruder, but the confrontation is turning against him. He backs off and she advances. Then he turns and runs. He is limping badly and she pursues him, biting at his hindlimbs. In the last light of the day he crashes into the denser undergrowth above the river valley. He has lost his territory and it is unlikely that he will be given the chance to recover from his wounds. His days are numbered.

To Be Continued