The boy talking was Bubba. We took him to the NC Zoo. They had a outdoor dinosaur exhibit. He saw another dinosaur with a baby and he was rushing to to go see it.
@Shirley Martin Looks like your vid has not been set to Public so that anyone can watch it. I've not uploaded a You Tube video. Perhaps others can tell you how to change this setting for your future reference...it's gotta be a basic thing.
NOW it's here. Before it looked like one of those years-old posts where the vid had been deleted. I tried to paste the url into my browser, and You Tube told me to log in to see if you have specifically granted me permission to view it. That's pretty cool for the zoo to put up a dinosaur exhibit.
I went back and changed it. I hope I did it right. It's the first one I ever put there. I checked for kids because I thought the kids would like it.
Praise “Trilobites the Dust,” and so do the rest of a cast of extinct creatures in this sequel (prequel?) to Last Laughs: Animal Epitaphs (2012). In chronological order from the Paleozoic to the Cenozoic eras, dinosaurs, prehistoric, reptiles, and early mammals offer memento mori in pithy verse. “Iguanodon, Alas Long Gone,” for example runs: “Iguano dawned, / Iguano dined, / Iguano done, / Iguano gone.” With similar brevity, “Plesiosaur Sticks His Neck Out” of Loch Ness and has it chopped through by a Pict (a foot-note admits the anachronism), and unknown agents leave “Pterrible Pterosaur Pterminated.” In later times, a saber-toohed cat (“Tiger, tiger, hunting bright / near the tar pits, late at night”), a dire wolf, and a woolly mammoth are all depicted trapped in the gooey much. Each poem comes with an explanatory note, and a prose afterword titles “A Little About Layers” discusses how the fossil record works. Timmins reflects this secondary informational agenda in his illustrations without taking it too seriously – providing a spade-bearded, popeyed paleontologist who resembles a spud in shape and color to usher readers through galleries of fossil remnants or fleshed-out specimens meeting their ends with shocked expressions. The poetry and prose form more of an uneasy détente than an integrated whole, but the comical pictures and the wordplay in these dino demises provide sufficient lift. —Kirkus Reviews
Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast (link) Here’s Douglas Florian, who is pictured outside his studio on West 52nd Street in Manhattan (“also known as Swing Street,” he told me, “because the jazz musicians used to record there”) and whom I’m happy to welcome to 7-Imp this morning for a breakfast chat. “I’m higher than five elephants. / I’m longer than most whales. / My giant neck is balanced by / My forty-three-foot tail. / A tail that is my weapon. / It swings from side to side. / From nose to tail I’m ninety feet— / Hey kid, ya wanna ride?” “What’s Minmi’s BIGGEST claim to fame? It has the smallest dinosaur name.”
Excerpts of a poem by Spencer B. P. Bull (1889-??), Buffalo Evening News, March 10, 1910 FULL POEM Pete In Era Milpleistocene I owned a dinosaurus tame But ages gone, he passed away Now life without him's not the same I've owned a dog, I've tried a pig A dik-dik's sported 'bout my feet But no pet ere will take the place Of my own dinosaurus, Pete My life it was a simple thing I scarcely ever ventured out Without my dinosaur to keep Me from an ichthyosaur's snout My feet they were prehensile then with them I'd gaily climb a tree Until from far above my Pete I'd hurl strange mouthings down at he Ah! evolution, though so great Thou'st brought me sorrow, quite terrific By taking from me my own pet Of ages paleontolithic I sit me in my study now My incarnations pass before In none was I so happy quite As with my Pete, my dinosaur.
Thanks, Joe. .. I got lazy. I wondered if he was talking about William Jennings Bryant's speeches. A strange thing to drop in, if so.
Dinomania: the story of our obsession with dinosaurs "There is certainly nothing new about the instinct to marvel at giant fossils, nor to dream of putting flesh back on their bones. At the height of the Roman empire, during the reign of Tiberius, a devastating earthquake – “the worst in human memory”, according to Pliny the Elder – exposed a series of colossal skeletons". "The locals, convinced that these were the remains of ancient heroes, were reluctant to desecrate their graves; but knowing of the emperor’s interest in such matters, they reverently sent him a single, massive tooth". "Tiberius, eager to see with his own eyes just how large the man from which it came would have stood, commissioned a mathematician to calculate the hero’s proportions, and then to build him a scale model. The tooth – which we are informed was over a foot long – was not, of course, human, but most likely from a mastodon".