Rodney is in a Pickle

Rodney was in a pickle.

Despite his mother’s constant warnings, he’d got carried away chasing critters without watching where he was going. Now he was knees deep in a tar pit and sinking.

The orange sun in the distance was beginning to dip into the horizon. The critter, which had hit the brakes at the edge of the pit, lifted its head from its hiding place and looked at its fallen predator. With a curious tilt of the head and a twitch of its nose, it was gone.

Rodney was all alone.

One of his feet could feel something bony that he didn’t want to think about.

A flapping interrupted the stillness and something landed nearby. It was Angela the Pterodactyl.

‘Looks like you’re in a pickle, Rod,’ Angela said.

Rodney nodded.

‘Have you tried thrashing about?’ Angela asked.

‘Not yet,’ said Rodney. ‘Do you think I should?’

‘DO NOT thrash!’ came a voice. It was Maggie the Troodon, who had been searching for supper in the bushes.

‘Really?’ said Rodney and Angela in unison.

‘Definitely not,’ answered Maggie firmly. ‘The last dinosaur that thrashed is just under your feet, Rod.’

Rodney instinctively bent his knees to lift his feet, immediately bringing the tar halfway up his thighs.

‘What should we do?’ Rodney asked Maggie. ‘I’m quite scared.’

The sun was now almost cut in half by the edge of the world, the sky was a pale red and the trees were fading towards grey.

‘Well,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m going to catch my supper and find somewhere to sleep. You guys can do what you want. Just don’t thrash.’

‘You can’t just leave Rod like this,’ Angela shouted. ‘You’re the smartest dinosaur we know. Please help?’

Maggie rolled her eyes and sighed for effect but, secretly, this was exactly what she’d wanted to hear.

‘Ok,’ the clever dinosaur said, turning around. ‘We’re going to need some help. Angela, can you raise the alarm?’

Angela nodded and launched herself into the air.

Maggie looked at Rodney. Rodney looked at Maggie.

‘Thanks, Mags,’ said the sinking ‘saur.

Away from the pit, Angela looked down. Everyone was so scattered, even with her wings it would take forever to tell them all. She needed a quicker way. That’s when she spotted Terry the Parasaurolophus.

‘Terry!’ Angela yelped, almost hitting the ground in her rush to get his attention.

‘ANGELA!’ Terry boomed with such force Angela was blown back into the air.

‘Terry,’ she started again. ‘I need your help. Rodney is in a pickle.’

‘FOR YOU, ANGELA, ANYTHING!’

Not everyone was kind to Terry. He was so loud he had a habit of scaring away the critters, but he was a nice guy and Angela liked him. She landed and whispered into his ear. Terry nodded his understanding and took a deep breath.

‘EVERYONE TO THE TAR PIT! RODNEY IS IN A PICKLE! REPEAT. EVERYONE TO THE TAR PIT! RODNEY IS IN A PICKLE!’

Trees shook and critters scattered. The rumble and rustle of a dozen moving dinos began to echo through the forest.

Terry thought for a minute then raised his head once more.

‘WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!’

By the time Angela and Terry got back to the pit, there were dinosaurs all around. Rodney was sunk up to his chest and the sun was just a long red line between the dark sky and the darker earth.

‘You’re in a pickle, Rod!’ was the general agreement.

‘It’s OK everyone, I’ve got a plan,’ Maggie said. She called the group around and delivered her instructions.

What happened next would explain how the pyramids were built, and Stonehenge too.

First, Ollie and Ora, the Oryctodromeus twins, approached the two biggest trees at the western edge of the tar pit and dug into the ground beneath them while Angela and her sisters began gathering sticks and branches and dropping them into the tar around Rodney’s front legs.

The tree foundations suitably weakened. Ed and Abel, the Triceratops brothers, braced themselves against the far side of the trunks and pushed as hard as they could. Behind them, Frank the Giganotosaurus and Millie the Tyrannosaurus charged. Using Ed and Abel's bottoms as springboards they leapt into the air and threw their huge shoulders into the trunks as high as they could.

The mighty trees creaked, cracked, and toppled, creating a long pier into the tar pit, right up to Rodney’s head.

That’s when Kirsty the Diplodocus stepped up. With one front leg on each trunk, she stretched out her long neck and gently grabbed the thick loose skin behind Rodney’s neck between her teeth.

‘Right, Rod,’ Maggie yelled. ‘When Kirsty pulls, you use those floating branches to help climb your front legs out of the tar. Go steady though, don’t thrash!’

Rodney nodded. Kirsty nodded. A dozen waiting dinosaurs nodded.

‘Now!’ yelled Maggie.

Breaths were held as muscles strained and legs paddled. Over what seemed like a century, Rodney’s front end slowly lifted from the tar and onto the trunks before him. Pterodactyls swarmed and pushed at Rodney’s bum and, gradually, the great sinking dinosaur was eased from peril; first onto the fallen trunks, then the forest floor. A great cheer went up and, just as the sun’s light blinked out completely, Rodney was saved.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ Maggie said to nobody in particular. ‘I think it's time for bed.’

‘Thank you,’ said Rodney, as he lay on the ground counting his blessings. ‘Thank you, everyone!’

‘Erm, excuse me,’ came the voice of Fred the Woolly Mammoth, who had arrived late in the darkness and rushed too quickly towards the eastern edge of the pit.

‘I seem to be in a pickle.’