Learning the Basics

Why did Blackwell ever bother going out today?

He could’ve just ignored that stupid plant and left it for the rest of the island to figure out while he relaxed at home. But no, now he was begrudgingly following behind Bowie—one of the island’s new visitors—who seemed fine being completely oblivious to everything around him. They were currently on their way back to where Blackwell had previously left Maol, in hopes that the older oviraptor would take this kid with him and out of Blackwell’s feathers. He just wanted to go home and sleep all of this off.

He wasn’t very surprised to get back and see that Maol was gone already. Most of the berries were gone, and gingerly Bowie pecked at the leftovers. A trail of footprints were left in the soft dirt, but Blackwell couldn’t see any movement in the direction Maol went. Damn it.

“What’s he in such a hurry for?” Blackwell grumbled, stamping his feet in frustration.

”Probably to fulfill our mission!” Bowie piped in, looking entirely unbothered by the fact Maol wasn’t here.

”And what in the world is your mission?” Blackwell asked again, glaring at Bowie.

”Well I told you, I don’t know! But all the adults brought these with them,” and suddenly, Bowie lifted his wing to reveal a small fabric sling that Blackwell somehow hadn’t noticed before, “it’s full of seeds, and I think the adults have been planting them everywhere!”

”Planting them?” Blackwell asked quizzically, “Haven’t they just been running around dropping them everywhere?”

Bowie stared up at Blackwell for a moment before breaking out into laughter, so much so that he fell over.

”Gosh, no, sir!” Bowie giggled, attempting to cover his beak with his wings, “hardly anything would take like that!”

Blackwell only stared down at him in confusion. The cogs started turning in Bowie’s head, and he jumped up to his feet, looking a little excited.

”Sir, don’t you know how to garden?” He asked, tilting his head as he looked at the older styracosaurus. It was Blackwell’s turn to be sheepish for once, huffing in frustration.

“No,” he snorted, looking away. How was he supposed to plant things? It’s not like he had nimble fingers like the oviraptors did. Surely his size would greatly hinder his ability to garden practically anything. Bowie didn’t seem to see the problem with Blackwell attempting to garden, puffing his chest out and turning to face the direction Maol had gone.

”Well let's go find Maol for real this time and he’ll show you how-“

“What do we need Maol for?” Blackwell quipped, tilting his head in feigned confusion. “Aren’t you practically an expert?”

Blackwell had to stop himself from laughing as he watched Bowie’s feathers ruffle from embarrassment.

”W-well Maol’s a better teacher than I am…” Bowie murmured, the poor excuse not convincing Blackwell one bit.

“Uh huh,” Blackwell replied as he brushed past Bowie, heading in the direction of Maol’s footsteps. “Let’s go find him, then.”

Luckily, Maol wasn’t moving very fast. 

The duo found the aforementioned oviraptor only twenty minutes later, in the middle of covering up a small hole in a small dirt patch that peeked out from the field of tall grass.

“Maol!” Bowie called out like he would to an old friend, scampering up to the older oviraptor. Blackwell thought it was a bit odd, seeing as Bowie told him he’d never met Maol before. Were all of the oviraptors this friendly with each other? Once Maol turned around to find the source of the small voice, he could only blink down at the juvenile with something that looked like curiosity. There was no recognition in his eyes, but he did seem a bit concerned, shuffling nervously.

“Hello…?” Maol murmured, flinching back from Bowie’s erratic movements as he jumped around excitedly.

“Mr. Maol, could you help this mister out and teach him how to garden?” Bowie asked optimistically, “I know we’re very busy with our mission, but we should get all the help we can, right?”

”You seem… awfully young to be out here-“

“Am not!” Bowie screeched, cutting him off. Blackwell shot Maol an unamused look, one that seemed to say ‘how did you all let this little shit out of containment?’.

Instead of doubling down and taking Bowie back to wherever they had originated from like Blackwell thought, Maol just shrugged and returned his focus to the styracosaurus. “Well anyway, I’d be happy to teach you the basics, um—Blackwell, was it?”

Blackwell felt as though he was the insane one here.

“Aren’t you gonna take him home?” Blackwell snorted, carefully nudging Bowie with his foot. The little oviraptor looked offended by this, glaring up at Blackwell and nipping at his ankle.

Much to Blackwell’s dismay, Maol only shrugged again. “Who am I to stop him if he believes he should be here? Besides, I wouldn’t be able to carry out our mission if I brought him all the way back!”

Blackwell was sick and tired of hearing about this mission that he wasn't allowed to know about.

“So you’ll teach him how to garden?” Bowie chirped. Blackwell could’ve headbutted the kid right then and there. But he didn’t, he had self control.

…

And that self control was quickly waning. Maol spent a good chunk of time trying to figure out how exactly Blackwell would be able to garden. How would he pick up seeds efficiently? Water crops? There were many things that didn’t translate well from an oviraptor’s method to the way a styracosaurus would do it.

“Well, the first step is to plant a seed, obviously,” Maol explained matter-of-factly, having given both Blackwell and Bowie each a seed of their own, “but how your seed grows can depend on how and where you’ve planted it.”

Blackwell felt stupid, staring down at the tiny seed sitting on the ground in front of him. He felt like a little hatchling all over again, frustrating him. Meanwhile, Bowie sat eagerly next to him, practically vibrating in place as he stared down at his own seed. He insisted that he just didn't want Blackwell to feel out of place, but the more Maol talked, the more Blackwell thought that Bowie really didn’t know what he was doing either.

“How?” Bowie squawked back to Maol, right on cue, and Blackwell side eyed him. 

Maol continued on without hesitation: “Well, you see, a seed needs to be planted in the right conditions to grow well. And depending on what kind of soil they’re planted in, they’ll need to be cared for differently. For example, sandier soil is more likely to wash out, but it doesn’t stay wet for long, so you have to water it often and make sure it's on stable ground.”

Blackwell was trying to absorb the information, he really was, but all he wanted right now was a nap. This ‘gardening’ sounded too tedious for his liking.

”You expecting us to hang around here and coddle a plant for a few weeks?” He huffed, not fond of how much commitment and effort gardening seemed to take.

”Oh, no, no, no!” Maol chattered, almost laughing, “These seeds are hardy, don’t worry! Most of them will grow just fine on their own, as long as they’re planted in a good spot. And that brings me to my next point: some seeds need to be planted differently. Some need to be buried deep, some shallow, and some don’t need to be buried at all!”

“How can you tell which seeds need to be planted in one way or another?” Bowie asked, sniffing at his seed as if it would tell him the difference.

“Well, a lot of trial and error, I suppose,” Maol commented thoughtfully, “but we oviraptors have figured most of it out over the years. Gardening truly is tough work, you know. There are a lot of things that come into play if you want to grow a healthy plant.”

”So what are we doing with these?” Blackwell sighed, nudging the seed that was given to him with his foot. He just wanted Maol to stop talking so he could get this over and done with.

”Ah, right!” Maol jumped up, almost as if he had forgotten about the seeds he gave the other two. “Blackwell, would you mind digging a shallow trough with your horn?”

”I would mind, actually,” Blackwell grumbled, though he still stood up and carefully dragged his horn through the dirt, giving them a small spot to bury their seeds.

”Perfect!” Maol praised, his tail swishing slightly behind him. “Now all you need to do is put the seeds into a tough, evenly spaced, and cover them up! A little water might help, but these ones should be fine until the next rainfall.”

Bowie was quick to follow Maol’s instructions, carefully nudging his seed into the trough before looking up at Blackwell expectantly. The styracosaurus huffed before begrudgingly pushing his seed in, too, before covering them both up with dirt again.

”Good, good!” Maol chirped, briefly inspecting the barely noticeable mound of dirt where the seeds resided. “They should do just fine! You’ll have some fine sprouts growing in no time! Maybe a week or so!”

”Great,” Blackwell deadpanned, not exactly interested in everything that followed the burial of their seeds, “well, I’ll be seeing the two of you hopefully never.”

As Blackwell began to turn to leave, Bowie sprang up, scuttling over to him. “Huh? What do you mean sir?”

Blackwell sighed heavily again, glancing down at Bowie. “I mean you and Maol are gonna go on your merry way, and I’m gonna go take a nap,” he explained just about as lightly as he could, turning to Maol for backup. What he didn’t expect, however, was for Maol to already be gone, his white feathers just barely flashing through the underbrush before Blackwell fully lost sight of him.

Oh, he wanted to scream.

Blackwell glanced back down at Bowie’s stupid, stupid face, staring up at him with those big round eyes, and he cracked, just slightly. Blackwell sighed, and began walking in the direction of his den. “Let’s go.”

Bowie nearly squealed with joy, happily running after Blackwell and already starting to yap his ear off about everything they had just learned from Maol. This was going to be a long week.