Boy with bone, Chileno Valley, CA.
“What do you think this came from, Baba?” they both asked. The boychild was fascinated. “A dinosaur, maybe?” hazarded his older sister.
We were at a u-pick ’em farm, out for apples. They also operate a 600-acre, 100-head, grass-fed beef cattle ranch. Baba knew better. But did she hit the kids with the harsh truth? That it’s surely a part off of some hapless, butchered cow, not unlike one of those cows over there, the sweet ones, ones that would one day wind up on y’alls’ plate? That is, when Mama cooks up the hamburger that only she has the stomach to cook?
“Wow, maybe so. Maybe it is a dinosaur bone.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Isn’t the first time; won’t be the last.