Once upon a time in the land of long ago a mother Brontosaurus felt that it was time to prepare a nest for her babies. Out she went into the wilderness to find just the right spot. She had not gone very far when she said, "There it is, the perfect spot. I will make my nest here". So she dug a hole with her front feet and then smoothed it nicely with the tip of her tail. "Good", said Mrs. Brontosaur as she laid seven lovely leathery eggs in it. "Now I will cover my seven large eggs with some sand so that The Terrible Tyrannosaurus will have no idea where my nest is". So she carefully swept some sand over the nest with her long tail. Then she left them there all by themselves to be warmed by the sun and hatched three full moons later. She knew that they would be safe from everything except The Terrible Tyrannosaurus for these were very, very tough shelled eggs.
Sure enough The Terrible Tyrannosaurus did come out to the wilderness the very next day and he looked and looked for the nest that he was certain must be nearby. But Mrs. Brontosaur had known very well how to hide her nest full of eggs from him. He spent one whole day looking for those eggs, almost stepping on them once. Finally The Terrible Tyrannosaurus had to give up his search. "When they are ready to hatch I will find them, he growled, "They will do a lot of pushing and pulling and wiggling and wriggling to get out of their shells and then I will surely see them and have a wonderful feast of Mrs. Brontosaur's children". Mrs. Brontosaur spent the next three months without a care in the world. Every day she went to picnics or tea parties and every night to concerts, plays or best of all to dances. She felt sure now that The Terrible Tyrannosaurus would never find where she had hidden her nest.
Finally the night of the third full moon came and she couldn't resist going out to watch her babies as they hatched. She knew they would be fine strong youngsters with quite enough sense to run for cover just as soon as they were out of the shell and up on their little legs. As she watched them she counted, "one, two, three, four, five, six......" "What in the world has happened to little number seven?" she wondered. She poked her nose down close to the last egg. Something inside was pushing and pulling and wiggling and wriggling with all its might but it wasn't yet strong enough to break through that very, very tough shell.
Just then Mrs. Brontosaur heard a roar. The Terrible Tyrannosaurus was just the other side of the nearest hill. Any second now he might burst over the top, see the last egg arid gobble it up right in front of its mother. Mrs. Brontosaur, a quick thinker, immediately stuffed the whole egg in her mouth. It was such a very large egg that there was just room for it in her mouth. As she turned to face The Terrible Tyrannosaurus the tip of her tail quickly swept sand over the nest of broken egg shells.
"Hmph!" growled he suspiciously. "What are you doing out here in the wilderness all by yourself?" Mrs. Brontosaur couldn't say a word because her mouth was completely filled with the seventh egg. She just gave him a scathing look which told him without words that she knew he was searching for her brood of little ones. Then, ignoring him, she headed back for town. As she left him standing there, The Terrible Tyrannosaurus let out such a roar of frustration that it made Mrs. Brontosaur jump and nearly swallow the egg.
In the meantime inside the egg the baby was beginning to break through the shell. Mrs. Brontosaur needed to set it down right away. Fortunately The Terrible Tyrannosaurus thought that since Mrs. Brontosaur was heading toward town, the nest really must be much farther out in the wilderness. As soon as he was out of sight over the next hill she set the egg down and just as she did out came the last baby. It was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen but it didn't look much like a little Brontosaur. Instead of a hard leathery skin it was covered all over with soft yellow down; instead of front legs it had wings; instead of a head with teeth it had a pointed beak; instead of a long tail it had a short one. Mrs. Brontosaur knew this baby was something completely new and different but try as she might she couldn't think what to call it. Can you guess what it was? No? I'll tell you.
The very last one, the seventh of Mrs. Brontosaur's eggs hatched not a baby Brontosaur but the very first baby Chicken. It was, indeed, a huge baby Chicken, but in that land of long ago many of the living creatures were much, much larger than they are today.
