Kapitel 9: Chapter 9: First Hunt as Twelve
The morning air was cool, steady, and quiet. The light was even, not too harsh, but enough to make the clearing visible from end to end without straining the eyes. The pond was still. The nest in the center was intact, the leaves and sticks dry from days without rain.
The five older Utahraptors were already active. They paced the edges of the clearing, tails balanced, claws flexing, scanning the tree line. Their movement was measured, controlled, and alert.
The seven hatchlings stayed near the nest. They had been alive for two days, their feathers cleaner now, their legs steady enough to keep their bodies upright without swaying. Their movements were small—turning heads, taking short steps—but they were watching the older pack closely.
Today was the start of their real integration. The sooner they learned to move with the older five, the faster they would become a functioning hunting unit. The hatchlings knew my presence and the boundaries of the clearing, but they had yet to follow over distance.
I stepped forward. The older raptors turned toward me immediately, their eyes sharp. I gave a short, deliberate hand signal, then took two steps toward the tree line.
The older pack moved first, spreading in a loose arc in front of me. The hatchlings hesitated for a moment, then followed, moving with less precision but with purpose. The older raptors adjusted their speed slightly, keeping their pace slow enough for the hatchlings to keep up without breaking formation.
We crossed the clearing at that speed. The grass gave way to packed soil and scattered leaves as we reached the trees. The undergrowth here was light, making the first stretch easy.
I kept the pace steady. The older raptors moved with practiced efficiency, stepping over roots and ducking under low branches without breaking rhythm. The hatchlings stumbled once or twice on uneven ground but recovered quickly, keeping their eyes on the older ones.
After about a hundred paces, I stopped. The older raptors froze instantly. The hatchlings caught up and slowed to a stop as well, forming a cluster behind their larger counterparts.
I watched them for a moment. No panic, no confusion—just readiness. That was good.
We resumed walking, this time weaving through denser trees. The older pack kept a constant eye on the younger ones, occasionally glancing back when one slowed too much. This was the first sign that they were beginning to take on a guiding role.
When we reached a small patch of open ground, I stopped again. This was where the first lesson would start.
I pointed toward a cluster of bushes about twenty paces away, then made a short motion with my hand. The two nearest older raptors moved toward the bushes, keeping their steps quiet. The hatchlings stayed where they were, watching.
The older raptors reached the bushes and paused. One pushed its head in slightly, then snapped back with a small rabbit in its jaws. It shook the prey once, then dropped it on the ground and stepped back.
I motioned for the hatchlings to approach. They moved quickly toward the rabbit, surrounding it. The largest of the hatchlings snapped at it first, then another joined in. The rest followed, pulling the small animal apart in seconds.
It wasn't about feeding them much this time—the rabbit was too small for that. It was about showing them how prey was found and taken.
Once they finished, I moved us deeper into the forest. The older raptors spread out slightly, taking up positions where they could cover both me and the hatchlings. This spacing was something they had learned during the last six weeks of hunts, and it was exactly what I wanted the younger ones to start copying.
A short while later, one of the older raptors stopped suddenly, its head turning toward the left. I followed its gaze. About thirty paces away, a pheasant scratched at the ground near the base of a tree, unaware of us.
I gave the signal. Two of the older raptors angled wide, circling behind the bird. The rest of the older pack stayed in place, keeping the hatchlings still.
When the two had reached their positions, I signaled again. One rushed forward, driving the pheasant toward the second, which intercepted it cleanly with a snap of its jaws.
I gestured for the hatchlings to follow me to the site. The older raptor dropped the bird, letting the younger ones investigate it. They pecked and tore at it, not with the same speed as the older ones, but with growing coordination.
This was the process—observe, imitate, and eventually perform the task themselves.
We continued like this for the rest of the morning. Short hunts, simple targets, nothing that could threaten the hatchlings. Each time, the older pack demonstrated, and the younger ones followed. By the third hunt, I noticed one of the hatchlings moving to intercept prey alongside an older raptor without hesitation.
After about two hours, I led them back toward the clearing. The older pack kept their positions until we were inside the boundary, then broke formation to drink from the pond. The hatchlings followed them, copying the action exactly.
I stood near the nest, watching the twelve of them together. The integration was already starting. The hatchlings were learning from the older ones faster than I had expected. The next step would be taking them all on longer hunts, letting the younger ones take more active roles.
For now, they needed rest. The first lesson was complete.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein