Conor MacFerran sat calmly in his office, waiting for his deputy to arrive. He had nothing to do, so he decided to get thinking. It had been three months, but he felt that he had managed to make himself at home – Prehistoric Park's Curator of Reptiles.
It had been all Percival's idea – arguing that the old system, where the Deputy Keepers all recorded to Kyle, had led to "fundamental weaknesses", Percival had decided that each division needed a "curator", someone who could co-ordinate and manage things with the division under their purview. The Deputy Keeper would act as the curator's, well, deputy, and it would be the curator, not the Deputy Keeper, who would directly report to Kyle, Nikolai and Drew.
And Percival had made it very clear (in long, tedious detail) the foibles of his Deputy Keeper, Jack Denham, with everything from his "erratic, quick-tempered and habitually insubordinate" nature to his "ineffectual leadership" (which he'd noted had caused Theodore and Bryce to roll their eyes) in the firing line
Conor snorted – from as far as he could see, the bastard had been overreacting (something he imagined was a regular occurrence). All Denham needed was a firm hand – someone to remind him of his new place. Speaking of which…
Jack Denham opened the door, panting and exhausted, with several files of paperwork in his hands – he'd rushed here, apparently. Noticing MacFerran's steely gaze, Jack said, "Sorry I'm – slightly – late. I had to get here all the way from the Miocene Amazon building and collect all the paperwork – y'know, a consistent meeting time would be nice."
MacFerran chuckled to himself. The unpredictable meeting times, often leaving Jack to deal with last-minute changes, were a deliberate tactic MacFerran used to exert control. In reality, he didn't even need Jack to be present; Jack could easily send someone to deliver the reports. However, MacFerran wanted to emphasize that Jack was attending these meetings at his discretion, not the other way around.
Looking at Jack, MacFerran lifted a finger, "Just felt like reminding ya, Denham, that your job is not to decide – it is to give advice and I will decide whether I act on it. You're not in charge anymore."
Jack rolled his eyes; he had heard similar words a thousand times before. That was typically how each weekly meeting with MacFerran went—even if nothing consequential was being discussed. It was a reminder that he was first among subordinates, not an equal. Sighing, he said, "Look – if you just called me here to remind me you're my boss now, there isn't really much of a point. I get it already."
Brushing him off like a child throwing a fit about being ignored, MacFerran said, "Anyway, to business, Denham. From what I can tell, the new arrivals – from the Megalania trip – still seem to be settlin' in well, the adult Titanophoneus pair seem to be hittin' it off, which is good – and mating season for the dinocephalians passed without much incident."
Jack rolled his eyes again, "I know all this, MacFerran. Why are you telling me…" MacFerran suddenly lifted his finger and said, "You shut up." When Jack glared at him in reply, MacFerran sighed mock-exasperatedly and said, "Look, Denham, I like ya. Really, I do. I'm only hard on ya because I just want ya to understand how things have changed."
Jack rolled his eyes, and muttered, "You've got a funny way of showing it…", to which MacFerran glared at him and spoke, slowly, but menacingly, "I will pretend I didn't hear that. I don't think I need ya to go through everything else, so you can get back to ya dromas or… whatever it is you do."
Jack stared at him with disgust and stormed out, almost slamming the door behind him. After he'd left, MacFerran sighed – it was better than last time. He was one step closer to understanding how things worked now. Perhaps it would be best, for now, to leave it at that.
Anyway, time to look at the info…
. . . . .
Asha Sengupta sat on a bench by a large aviary and watched as the Quetzalcoatlus lawsoni milled around, either patrolling their territory or searching for food, each pair roughly keeping to their territories. Each adult was accompanied by a gaggle of finch-sized juveniles, searching for food under their parents' watchful eyes.
Shortly before she'd arrived, each Quetzalocatlus lawsoni pair had built a nest mound and laid up to twelve eggs in each of them, protecting the eggs and maintaining the nests until they hatched.
What surprised her was that, unlike almost all modern birds except for megapodes, baby pterosaurs could fly immediately after hatching from the egg. The baby Quetzalcoatlus behaved more like baby crocodiles than birds, principally catching food for themselves (mostly insects) whilst being protected by their parents. According to Khatin, as they grew, their diets would change, again like crocodiles.
That was why, according to Leon, there were no truly tiny pterosaurs in the Cretaceous – as pterosaurs had gotten larger, the juveniles of the big ones, filling different niches to their parents, had pushed them out, with birds diversifying to fill some of the gaps.
And that was why, whilst the giant teratorns and phorusrhacids had been cool, as had the Cretaceous birds with toothy beaks, the pterosaurs fascinated her the most – they were an entirely new frontier. They were like birds in some ways, yet unlike birds in so many others.
In the meeting where she'd been recruited, she'd been told the Deputy Keeper who she'd be working with was called Adrian Sky. She vaguely recalled the name – they'd briefly met in Kazakhstan, and talked over their shared passion for falconry. There, Adrian had talked about obtaining a bearded vulture chick whose parents had been shot and that he'd offhandedly talked about training. Imagine her surprise when she found he'd succeeded – being able to tame such a powerful and strong-willed bird at a young age was, she had to concede, the mark of a true prodigy.
The fact that the position of Deputy Keeper was, as far as she could see, a position that didn't hold any real influence (which Percival had out and out admitted, saying that the only difference between a Deputy Keeper and a regular keeper was really just a title and a few different duties) made her leery – she didn't like subterfuge.
She and Adrian got on well for the most part – Adrian respected Asha's greater overall expertise and Asha respected Adrian's deep-held familiarity with the animals he worked with, a familiarity that had been maintained through keen observation. He knew them, he understood them – from tiny birds and pterosaurs to giant azhdarchids, Adrian knew the ins and outs of almost any given species.
Within reason, of course. Adrian was aware that a big problem for them was that, often, the only thing they knew about many of the species was what could be deduced from inanimate remains… even if that was a concept upper management still struggled to get their heads round. A good example was the sphenacodonts; had it not been for a hunch from Jack Denham, no one would have even remotely suspected that they were actually venomous.
A good case in point was what she was looking at now. Matthew had asked her to address a long-standing issue in the park: occasional outbreaks of oral trichomoniasis among phorusrhacids, troodontids, and dromaeosaurids. Although the veterinarians successfully treated these cases, Matthew felt it was time to prioritize prevention over treatment to reduce the risk of severe cases and potential fatalities.
Anyway. Time to get working on that – she sighed and got up.
. . . . . .
Lesedi Venter sat in her office, looking through the – very comprehensive – reports Alice Denham had sent her, gathered from all over the park.
Ths was nothing new. She'd dealt with reports and paperwork back in South Africa, when she'd been doing her conservation work. Of course, it wasn't that she'd never gotten out into the field – the story about her climbing a tree to avoid an angry hippo, who had interrupted her apprehension of a suspected poacher (who hadn't been so lucky) still made the rounds.
Naturally, this had helped get her noticed by Theodore when he'd been seeking out new supervisors for the keeper divisions at the park. And as a result, here she was; whilst she'd been rather curious and confused at first as to what Theodore had meant about 'exploring new horizons', she'd been very excited when she'd learned the true nature of Prehistoric Park.
While the sabre-tooths and mammoths were cool, it was the more unusual creatures – both large and small – that had captivated her. Many of them represented new frontiers – these were creatures with no modern equivalents or close relatives. However, she had found that, bizarrely, there was a lot of consistency in many of the prehistoric mammals – they may have looked strange, but many of their behaviours, she could recognise. This was particularly true of the predators – the evolution of predatory mammals had been one long theme of identical solutions to similar problems.
Anyway, back to the reports. She'd been looking through Alice's reports – nothing much eventful had happened recently. The first generation of calves for many of the herbivores were all growing well and many of the females were expecting again. Whilst the issue of overcrowding was omnipresent, that was an issue for the far future.
Suddenly, her mind was cast back to the birth of a two-headed Macrauchenia calf on Christmas Eve. This, quite frankly bizarre discovery had been made by complete accident - somebody, on a random check, on Christmas Day had found one of the female Macrauchenia standing over a dead calf. Whilst she had vigorously attempted to protect her deceased offspring, eventually, they had managed to remove it… where the circumstances of its birth became apparent.
Despite having lived for less than a night, the unfortunate calf had become the talk of the Internet. News sources were buzzing about its birth like flies to the poor creature's corpse, while satirists "humorously" referred to the tiny animal as a "Christmas miracle".
And as was usual, social media had been a toxic waste dump. She couldn't decide which group of people was worse: the individuals who bluntly expressed their revulsion at the unfortunate calf's birth (not helped by the fact that Macrauchenia were funny-looking animals anyhow – she wondered how many disgusted reactions there would be about a two-faced Smilodon cub), those well-intentioned parasocial mourners who, in the seeming belief that the park staff had been forced to euthanise it, sent them messages of condolence often wrapped in pity, or the wannabe comedians making crude and insensitive jokes.
The upper management was hardly any better. Someone had suggested that the calf, still in the deep freeze, be stuffed and displayed to attract visitors to the Santa Cruz section. At the thought of this idea, Lesedi shook her head in disgust; it was grotesque.
In other news, the mass brucellosis vaccination on many of the herbivores had gone well, with minimal side effects. It never hurt to be prepared – the risk of communicable disease from modern animals (that could be risky for immune systems not used to them) was omnipresent. And on a final note, Alice had noted that it was possible that Nala, the female cave lion, might be expecting cubs. Another success for the breeding programs.
Lesedi smiled - whilst she'd understood that the transition of power, such as it was, might not come smooth, Alice had taken it remarkably well. They both respected each other – Alice respected Lesedi's greater overall experience, whilst Lesedi understood that no-one knew these animals better than Alice did. Unlike some, Lesedi had made that sense of semi-equality clear. Maybe that was why things had been less… turbulent than in some divisions… which was, in her view, very welcome. Better turbulence without – from managing the animals – rather than turbulence within.
. . . . . .
The Pteranodon took off from the water, its wings stretching wide, after a brief period of vigorous flapping, as it gained lift and soared back to the rookery.
Oskar Willig watched the pterosaur fly over and smiled, writing an observation down in his notebook. The occupants of the Niobrara bird and pterosaur aviary had recently been fed and Willig had decided to take a short break and watch. The frenzy had died down, with most of the occupants sticking to their species groups as they digested their meals.
He recapped the events of the week since the Tylosaurus mission. The male tanystropheus were still displaying, with the keepers now keeping a close eye on them, in case two males came to blows. Bernie was keeping a close eye on them too… for research purposes – well, documenting lek breeding in a primitive archosauromorph was certainly a bit of a breakthrough.
For a comparatively new hand like Willig, the whole incident went to show how much they still had to learn about the animals. Certainly, it wasn't without precedent in reptiles or even vertebrates, but it couldn't have been deduced from inanimate remains. Even for the longest-standing residents, there were still surprises.
A chattering hiss from the paddock interrupted his thoughts, as he noticed two male Hesperornis – one significantly larger than the other – squaring off. Well, technically, the larger one seemed more interested in conflict, whilst the smaller one was awkwardly trying to shuffle away as the bigger male hissed and snapped aggressively at him, even snatching a fish out of his mouth.
From a red, white and black band on the smaller male's right ankle, Willig suddenly recognised which male this was – M-12… or, as the keeping staff called him, "Hubie", after a character from a masterfully bad (but hugely entertaining) animated film.
Willig had often heard from chatter from the aquatics and flight teams – who split responsibility for the birds and pterosaurs of the Nioabra aviary – that Hubie got bullied a lot, mostly by the other male hesperornis. Now, Willig was not one to be anthropomorphic… but he had to concede that Hubie did indeed get bullied a lot.
Anyway, Hubie had moved to the outskirts of the colony – the other male, seeing no reason to pursue him, hadn't followed, but other males had hissed and snapped at him as he'd retreated. From what Khatin could observe, Hubie hadn't gotten much of the fish – and what he'd gotten had mostly been stolen by the other Hesperornis. This was an issue that needed to be solved. Put that on the problem list.
He shook his head and chuckled; working at the park brought joy and challenges in equal measure, but facing it was always quite an experience.
This chapter is one of a few I had sitting half-done on my laptop – basically, a dozen different things (and many different writing projects) kept on getting in the way.
So this is the focus Extras chapter for the four new curator characters – even though, you've already met them, I figured we could give a bit more focus on them. I wanted to give a bit more insight into the Jack/MacFerran relationship – we'll be seeing more of that in another Extras chapter
I had to rewrite this chapter quite extensively – to add Asha, to remove all the bits where their backstories were described and finally to mention the two-headed Macrauchenia calf.