Funny dinosaurs

The fresh autumn air and warm, sunny weather created a sense of calm and good mood as my wife and I strolled through the city park. It was a weekday, and the park was relatively empty. Only the rustling of a few fallen leaves underfoot interrupted the silence. Summer was already over, and the air already smelled of autumn. As we walked, we approached a small pond, a remnant of a river that once flowed here.

A flock of ducks with feathers glistening in the sun splashed into the pond. Noticing us, they swam closer. The bravest of them climbed onto the shore and began to quack, begging for food. The ducks had already become accustomed to park visitors feeding them. “Look,” my wife chuckled, “how important they look!” I laughed, agreeing. I found their confidence endearing.

“Remember when the woman was feeding the ducks near the bridge? They were quacking loudly, calling their friends from all over the river to join in for the food. They are quite friendly with each other,” I said. “It’s fascinating how they share and look out for one another, isn’t it?”

Nearby, on the other side of the path, I noticed a curious sight. They were statues composed of concrete. The caricatured features and exaggerated proportions were too comical and implausible, clearly showing that the creators did not intend them for educational purposes. But still, these figures were unmistakably funny dinosaurs, not dragons or any other mythical creatures. The creators clearly designed them for children to climb on and pretend to ride a funny dinosaur.

These statues diversified the landscape of the city park, and I realized they had a certain charm. They were a reminder of the power of myths and of humanity’s fascination with long-extinct creatures whose massive forms remain etched in our collective memory. The images of these creatures from a bygone era brought joy to children in the present.

Here, in this quiet city park, the past and present intertwine, reminding me that the threads of life stretch through time, connecting us to a long-gone but not forgotten world.The distant descendants of dinosaurs—ducks—still waddled confidently around the pond, oblivious to the grandeur of their prehistoric ancestors. They didn’t try to eat us, but they were quite persistent in demanding food.

Their presence was a charming reminder of the current descendants of these mighty animals, living in peaceful coexistence with the park, the city, and the changed world, still retaining a glimpse of their heritage.

We continued our walk. The image of the concrete funny dinosaurs, left in my memory, is a testament to the enduring human need to tell stories, imagine the past, and find wonder in everyday life.