We had barely pulled through the state park gate when Tuppence's nose went up like a bottle rocket. "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, SMELL, there's THINGS here." Tommy grumpily woke from his usual car-ride slumber.
We had taken the camper, ourselves, and the Beagle Posse up to Glen Rose, Texas, a small town South of Fort Worth, and home to a couple of notable features. The first, the annual Texas State Dulcimer Festival, was why we were there. The second is the park where we were staying. Just 3 miles from town, it is Dinosaur Valley State Park. A beautiful place with a creek running through, and in the bed of that creek, a big series of very well preserved fossil dinosaur tracks in the limestone. At least two kinds, prey, with predator in chase. This chase had evidently taken place along what was a muddy sea shore approximately 113 million years ago. There are so many tracks, and so clear--you can actually see the striations in the claws in some of them--that their discovery in the early 1900s actually changed some ideas about paleontology and the speed at which dinosaurs could move. We've been to both the park and the music festival before, and love them. This was the first trip for the Posse.
Oh, yeah, one other thing notable about Glen Rose is that it is the site of the somewhat controversial Comanche Peak Nuclear Power Plant. But you can ignore that--well, unless it blows up, then it won't matter if you ignored it or not. We chose ignore.
As I checked in and got our campsite number, Deborah was trying to calm the Posse. She told them, "Guys, we're in the woods by a river. There are lots of smells and critters. Calm down."
Tuppy was having none. "NOT critters. Big, big, big stuff. Goooo Tommy." As she tried to paw down the back seat window.
We calmed the dogs enough to get the trailer set up, fix dinner, and settle in for the night. The first of the music performances at the outdoor stage would be in the morning. That next day, we got up and went straight to the festival, Beagle Posse in tow. They had a day of napping on the grass at our feet and greeting friendly fans of old time music. Though Tommy explained that he still couldn't tell the difference between a Jig and a Reel.
We began the second beautiful Texas morning with a dawn stroll down by the creek, and across to see some of the finer tracks in situ. The Beagle Posse, on putting their noses into the tracks, began to quiver like they'd been tasered by an Alabama sheriff. Tommy put himself fully into the giant track and began to strain the leash. "Yes, yes, yes! I have the trail. C'mon, Tupp!"
Holding the dogs back, we said we doubted they smelled a track 113 million years old that had had water washing it for millions of those years.
Tuppy snarled, "Well, maybe human noses can't, but we're beagles. This track has just been waiting for us. Let us go, we'll bring one back to you."
"First of all, girl, there are none left to bring back, second, I don't fancy your chances against a creature whose back paw print can encase your entire body."
"But there's TWO of us," said Tommy. "We'll get 'em."
"Two of you, and one T-Rex. Yeah."
"OK," said Tuppence, "maybe we'll just bring back a leg, not the whole lizard."
I sighed. "Posse, why are you so fixed on these old tracks. Wouldn't you rather have a fresh rabbit trail to run?"
"Nope," choked out Tommy, straining at the leash. "Want 'saur."
"Why?"
"Tastes like chicken."
Cute!
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