Ankylosaurus: Poetic Dinosaur of My Youth

Sometime in my first decade on the planet, I was given a set of plastic dinosaurs. Included were a purple Brontosaurus (before Brachiosaur became the popular and scientific term), a green Dimetrodon, an orange Tyrannanosaurus Rex, a gray Triceratops, a blue Stegosaurus, a red Pteranodon, a greenish-blue Plesiosaur, and a brown Ankylosaurus. The Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous were colorful in my youth.

Little human males often want to break or beat various pieces of the planet to discover what makes those pieces tick and stop ticking, and such little boys are attracted to the fearsome “meatosauruses” of millions of years ago, powerful robots of all sizes, shapes and statures, superheroes of both good and evil demeanor, and other transparent fetishizations of raw power, so I am now surprised to recall I preferred the Ankylosaurus.

This morning, I spent forty-three minutes contemplating, or should I say, retroactively interpreting, my selection of a favorite dinosaur and discovered I admire the same qualities about Anylosaurus that I admire in a good poem.

Ankylosaurus was a quadruped, feet firmly set on the ground, with a low center of gravity to guard against turning or toppling, balanced on all points, living close to the earth, source and sustenance of life.

Ankylosaurus was a vegetarian, living on leaves, which, after that one time in college, I, lamentably, am not, but I can see the benefits of eating lower on the food chain to both health and environment, and I browse vegetables, fruits, and nuts more in these later years.

Ankylosaurus had one hell of a hard head, horns, or horny protuberances, if I do say so myself, on the right and left of a tough skull. This armor most likely was protection from predators who might attempted to bite a neck or remove a head.

Ankylosaurus was armored from neck to nethers with a hard shell cobbled with intricately-fitted stony, raised plates and rimmed with spikes to repel attack from above or sides, an economy of defense and presentation clear in purpose and effect.

Ankylosaurus had a tail tipped with a club useful for aiming blows at heads of attackers from behind and most likely to make stinging and memorable impact on any who underestimated the strength and substance of a point meaningfully swung.

Now, Ankylosaurus is my even more favorite dinosaur. And yes, I’ll probably compose these insights as a poem now. Don’t tell anyone.