Pterosaur Sighting Report
O.K. So let me see if I got this straight.
You say you saw a pterosaur –
not a dinosaur – gotcha –
but a giant featherless flying reptile?
Would that be a Pteranodon or
a pterodactyl, m’am –
With a long featherless tale or without?
O.K., without. Body without feathers too.
We’re talking supposedly extinct
Jurassic era monster, yes?
Not a flying purple people-eater
that popped like a genie out of a bottle,
but a for-real monster circling
above you like a giant vulture.
Eight-foot head with a crocodilian
toothy grin. Twenty-five foot wing span?
Eyes the size of dinner plates, protruding.
Eyeballing you from eighty feet, you say.
Didn’t seem to fancy you for dinner,
but after twenty minutes, took off.
You could tell it had membrane-like
almost see-through black wings.
Was balder than a vulture all over.
You watched it for twenty minutes
before it took off in a southerly direction,
that it acknowledged seeing you
with a horrid ear-splitting shriek,
seemed to grin lasciviously. That right?
Did I miss anything? The size of
a Piper Cub, you say. You fly
recreationally and know your private planes
but you were out hunting on the ground that day.
This incident took place in the desert
between Whetstone and Huachuca mountains
last Sunday? You’re sure you’re of sound
mind and body? Hadn’t had a nip or two?
Weren’t munchin’ on peyote buttons;
Didn’t have a legendary White Spot
Psilocybin mushroom burger for lunch;
were totally straight. Have no agenda here?
That’s your story and you’re willing
To let the record stand as is?
Again, did I miss anything? – O.K.
You’ll swear on a stack of Bibles, got it.
What were you hunting for in the desert –
Not Pteranodons? Got that. Scared
The flying purple jesus – I’m sorry,
Scared the bejesus right out of you.
Ran to your Jeep and beat a hasty retreat.
Came straight here. I’m not doubting you,
but you’ve gotta know your story
is a little more than squirrely, m’am.
Do you have an explanation? Any theory
you’d care to add to all of this?
No, I don’t think you’re nuts
or present like some “hysterical female.”
I’m not sexist. I don’t hold such views.
Am not pursuing an agenda to make
the veracity of your tale go away.
I just want to know what happened, m’am.
Just want the record to be complete. Yes,
The way you perceived the incident –
How you perceived it last Sunday and how
You perceive it now. I was gonna say
“upon sober reflection,” but I don’t mean
to imply you were hallucinating … .
A time portal, you say? A glimpse of – what?
Some other dimension? Some space/time shift?
I’m not saying that isn’t possible.
I don’t know. None of us knows.
Still, string theory… The limits of Cartesian
thinking. Let’s just get the record straight.
What am I going to do? What would
you like me to do, m’am? We
could revisit the scene, but even
if the lizard bird were to return, why shoot it?
You seem to indicate it posed no threat.
You were just shocked, scared –
Who wouldn’t be? You froze; it took off.
Maybe you were – you are – lucky.
We wanna go back and find
the wormhole or portal or whatever ,,,
We haven’t got the resources, m’am.
No crime has been committed.
O.K. Let’s say we did go back.
Let’s say we had a way or relocating
said portal. Would you want to
break on through to the other side?
Sorry. I like The Doors – Doors
Of Perception too. I couldn’t resist.
But, seriously, how do you know
either of us could find our way back?
Your Pteranodon may not have had dinner.
Might wanna try some homo s kebabs.
Survival on this side of the menu membrane
looks good to me. You might want to stay here.
Sure, I could refer you to a priest
or cryptozoologist. You could go to the FBI,
but some Fortean research group
might be more appropriate. Let me ask around.
No, m’am. I’m not denying the veracity
of your tale. It’s compelling – and while
I wouldn’t want to test the science,
I believe you. I do. There are things
beyond the reach of our philosophy –
to paraphrase a line from Hamlet.
I get it. I do. I just like the view
from this circumscribed little nut.
Like to pick apples from the trees
in this orchard, m’am. Would as soon
not have to beat on the door of heaven
while I’m thrashing the grass for serpents.
You’ve got evidence? What’s this? A wing tip?
I could say something about shoe leather,
but I won’t. Your husband gave chase and
actually managed to shoot the creature down?!
It’s rotting as we speak — out in the desert?
Why?! For pity sake, why? You’re
Not just sending me on a prehistoric goose chase?
O.K. I’m off shift in an hour. I’m curious… .