This book has been sitting on the family bookshelf for the past twelve years or so. I say this because all important things in my childhood happened when I was nine, because I can't remember the other years or because the number nine is just a really convenient number to remember.
I wasn't one of those fiendish children who became fascinated with dinosaurs because they were large, roaring creatures with scaly hides and a propensity to be ferocious. I didn't marvel at what they were because they had been "terrifying lizards."
I was attracted to their mystery. There was the allure. They roamed the land, occupying it with such dominance not unlike today's human beings, and suddenly, with an asteroid collision or whatever, they were gone. Nothing left but fossilized skeletons to leave us questioning what colours they were, what they sounded like, how they simply behaved.
It's scary, isn't it. How vulnerable anything can be to fall, particularly after such a meteoric rise. I wonder, sometimes, if there were entire populations and civilizations that rose and fell, now without a trace.
I think that's why I still love to roam museums and why I am comfortable with the idea of taxidermy. I like the idea of being able to observe the static remnants of something that was once so dynamic and full of life. That's why I love period pieces and why I'm excited to bring this book back to Kingston with me tomorrow.
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