The stegosauruses didn't make as much noise as John had expected. They were hulking beasts whose feet produced low rumbling sounds as they walked the earth, but they were quiet eaters.

"I don't know what I was expecting," he said.

"Yeah? I thought the same thing on [i]my[/i] first day." Jessie, the senior park ranger, tapped her fingers on the jeep's steering wheel. "As far as large herbivores go, stegosauruses are what you can expect to handle on a good day. They're not very bright, but they keep to themselves and stay away from the paths."

John rubbed his chin, somewhere between awe and confusion, looking at the herd of spiked creatures.

Jessie, for her part, sported a mischievous grin, which John suspected she had whenever dealing with rookies. Helping keep O'Brien Prehistoric Park in check was, after all, not for everyone.

"Is it normal for there to not be a fence emplacement between us and them?" asked John.

Jessie chuckled. "In the case of most of our herbivores? Yes, but there [i]are[/i] a few security measures, even with the plant-eaters." She hopped out of the driver's seat and slung her dart rifle over her shoulder. "Come on, see what I mean."

The two rangers ventured into the tall grass, toward the herd of grazing stegosauruses, until Jessie raised her hand, signaling John to stop. "You can't see it very well, but there's a low-level electrical barrier. Where is it...? Ah!" She crouched and pushed aside foliage to reveal a line of pressure points that seemed to run all along the pathway. "If someone were to cross it, they would feel a shock run through their feet. Not much stronger than what you'd use for a dog collar, but it gets the job done."

"To keep dinosaurs from getting out?"

She laughed. "The dinosaurs? Nah, it's to keep people from getting [i]in[/i]!"

[hr]

As the jeep trudged through the muddy back road of the park, John decided to bring up the most awkward question one could conjure in such a situation. "So... did you sign up because you like [i]Jurassic Park[/i]?"

Jessie didn't even avert her eyes from the road. "Me? Of course! I mean, it wasn't the [i]only[/i] reason. A lot of us were inspired by that movie, but it did get a lot of things wrong about dinosaurs. There was a line from it that still remains true, though, and I'll always remember that line."

"What is it?"

"Nah, I won't say it. It's something you have to know from experience."

John leafed through a manual of enclosures and dinosaur names. "So the stegosauruses get their own territory, okay. And each carnivore gets its own fenced enclosure. But it says here that the dryosauruses and the para... the parasauro...?"

"The parasaurolophus. What a name, I know. Just call them duckies."

"It says here that they share a territory, the one we should be seeing in a minute? But they're not even from the same time period. Not sure I get that."

"This may sound weird," said Jessie, "but different dinosaurs from different time periods and geographical locations can co-exist. It's all about forming a simple and functioning ecosystem. You can put a small herbivore from the Jurassic period and a large herbivore from the Cretaceous period on the same plot of land, so long as they benefit from each other's company. Certain large herbivores interact nicely with certain small herbivores, while some—like the stegosaurus—are better off by themselves."

"Huh," John pondered.

Jessie suddenly veered the jeep off the road and through the unguarded back end of the enclosure, where only park employees could venture. John found himself entering a clearing, away from the dense greenery of previous enclosures, and he could see a lake in the distance.

Soon the jeep stopped, and the rangers got out to get a closer look at the deer-like dryosauruses and the duckies, the latter gathering like children around the lake to quench their thirst. John had to admit to himself that it was a peaceful sight.

"It really does feel like [i]Jurassic Park[/i]," he said quietly.

The beautiful scene got destroyed instantly, however, the moment the pungent smell of dung hit John's nostrils. "Oh, [i]God[/i]!" he cried, louder than he thought he would. Clasping his nose, he tried to not look at the foot-tall pile of ducky droppings that became known to him. "I didn't think it'd stink that bad!"

"Yep," she said, smiling knowingly. "That is one big pile of shit."