You tuck your ammo case into a handy pocket. The GoPro's important for documenting the takedown. It may be fortunate that the green crown and brown bill of the silly hat match the coloration of the duckbills. A hadrosaur would make an impressive kill, even if its head would be a hassle and a half to lug back to the Land Rover, not to mention that it'd take up the entire roof. Then, too, there's no telling what they might do if frightened. They could flee, freeze, or charge.
Brett brings additional water, some food, first-aid supplies, and her rifle.
You set off, pausing every so often to consult a compass and to wrap orange tape around tall plant stalks to mark the route leading back to the Land Rover. You're feeling pretty confident, having remembered to record your coordinates before you started off.
Brett nods approvingly. "Good to see you thought to do that."
As you draw closer to the terrace, an occasional clack or hiss reaches your ears. After slogging through the muddy undergrowth and then up the embankment, you come to the edge of the hadrosaurs' encampment, which you can smell before you catch sight of it. If you thought the marsh stank, the combination of rotting vegetation and dinosaur poop is worse.
Trying not to inhale, you hole up behind a fern that's so big you'd swear that it ingested a megadose of steroids. It conceals your entire body and Brett's too. From there, you gawk at the behemoths, feeling like a munchkin in Oz.
Hadrosaur Nesting Grounds