Wally’s Wingtip Picnic

“Welcome to my picnic!” said Wally, a flying reptile called a pterodactyl, spreading his wings. The blanket promptly sailed over his head.

It floated down over his beak, and Wally bumped into a patch of soft grass.

“Thank you for coming,” he said from underneath it.

Lottie, a little dinosaur with a yellow scarf, giggled as she lifted the blanket away. “You’re welcome. Shall we try that again?”

Wally shook grass from his head. “I’ve seen the other dinosaurs having picnics. They sit on a blanket, eat berries, and tell stories. I want to do that with you.”

“I’d love to,” said Lottie. She pointed to a sunny clearing beside a shallow stream. A broad, flat stone sat in the middle of the grass, with smooth stones nearby and a little hollow in its top. “That looks like a perfect picnic place.”

Wally carried the blanket in his beak while Lottie brought a bowl of berries, two little cups, and a leafy bundle of sandwiches. They set everything beside the flat stone.

“First, we spread the blanket,” Wally said. He opened his wings to help.

The blanket lifted again. It sailed past Lottie’s scarf, flapped over the stone, and landed in a bush.

Wally retrieved it. “Perhaps the blanket is trying to fly away with me.”

“Perhaps it thinks it’s a very big bird,” Lottie said.

They spread it again, this time on the grass. Wally tried to sit at the picnic stone. His long tail swept behind him and caught one corner. The blanket wrinkled into a heap.

Lottie smoothed it. Wally folded his tail close and tried once more. His wing brushed a cup. It tipped over and rolled in a slow circle until it bumped the berry bowl.

The bowl wobbled. Lottie caught it just in time.

“Oh, feathers and ferns,” Wally groaned. “I want us both to reach the food, but every time I sit down, something goes bump.”

Lottie looked at the stone, then at Wally’s wide wings. “Let’s not hurry,” she said. “Maybe there’s a way to make a picnic that works for you, too.”

Wally looked at the blanket, the cups, and the berries. He folded his wings and crouched beside the stone. “Wait,” he said. “I think I see one.”

Wally stayed crouched. His wings rested neatly against his sides, and his tail curled behind him like a question mark.

“I can hold the blanket down with one wingtip,” he said. He touched the blanket’s edge. It lifted a little, but his wingtip kept it in place.

Lottie’s eyes brightened. “And I can arrange the food while you hold it!”

They turned the blanket sideways, so Wally had more room for his tail. Lottie found four smooth stones and tucked one over each corner. Wally kept his wingtip on the edge. The blanket fluttered once, then settled flat on the grass.

“Good job, blanket,” Wally whispered. “You may stay right there.”

Lottie placed the cups near the stone, but Wally’s nearest wing brushed the grass beside them. The cups rocked.

“Not there,” Wally said. He studied the flat stone. Its little hollow was just wide enough for the berry bowl. “What if the food sits in the hollow? It won’t wobble off the rock.”

Lottie set the bowl inside. It fit snugly. She placed the sandwiches beside it, then moved one cup close to Wally and the other close to herself.

Wally carefully shifted his feet. His tail stayed clear of the blanket. His wings stayed folded. One wingtip still held the edge, just in case.

“Can you reach a berry?” Lottie asked.

Wally leaned forward. He picked one up with his beak and popped it into his mouth. “I can reach a berry! And the berry can reach me!”

Lottie handed him a sandwich. He took a tidy bite. Nothing bumped. The blanket stayed flat. The cups stood steady. The berry bowl sat safely in its rocky nook.

Wally gave a happy little flap, then quickly folded his wings again. “That was almost a picnic bump.”

They ate slowly, sharing sandwiches and berries while the stream made a quiet shushing sound nearby. Lottie told a silly story about a beetle who tried to carry a leaf bigger than his house. Wally laughed so hard that a berry nearly escaped his beak—but Lottie caught it in the bowl.

When the last sandwich was gone, Wally lifted his wingtip from the blanket. The smooth stones held the corners down.

“It worked!” he said. “We have invented the Wally-and-Lottie ground picnic!”

“And what do you call that careful crouch?” Lottie asked.

Wally folded his wings, tucked in his tail, and nodded solemnly. “The Picnic Pterodactyl Fold.”

Wally demonstrated the Picnic Pterodactyl Fold once more. He drew his wings snug against his sides, curled his tail close, and bent his knees until he was sitting comfortably beside the stone.

Lottie tried the fold, too. She tucked her elbows in and made a tiny, serious nod.

“Very good,” Wally said. “You look almost like a pterodactyl.”

“Almost?” Lottie asked, pretending to be offended.

“You’re missing the beak,” said Wally.

Lottie tapped the end of her nose. “There. Now I’m ready for the picnic.”

They laughed together, and the sound traveled across the clearing without disturbing a single cup. A few crumbs remained on the stone. Lottie brushed them into her palm, and Wally checked the hollow for any berries they might have missed.

“Nothing left behind,” Lottie said.

“Except the blanket,” Wally replied.

They lifted the smooth stones and folded the blanket carefully. Wally held one end with his beak while Lottie folded the other. This time, his wings stayed tucked away, and the blanket did not fly anywhere.

The sun rested low above the trees. The stream slipped along the edge of the clearing, and the grass felt cool beneath their toes.

“I’m so glad we shared this picnic,” Wally said. “I thought my wings and tail meant I couldn’t have a picnic on the ground.”

Lottie leaned against the flat stone. “They just meant we needed a clever way to make room.”

Wally looked at his folded wings. “And now I have a picnic greeting.” He stood up, crouched down again, folded his wings, tucked in his tail, and gave Lottie a very proper nod.

“Good evening, fellow picnic friend,” he said.

Lottie returned the nod. “Good evening, wingtip picnic host.”

They carried the cups and empty berry bowl home beneath the warm colors of the evening sky. Wally walked carefully, his wings tucked close, while Lottie hummed beside him.

At his nest, Wally curled up and remembered the blanket sailing over his head, the berry bowl wobbling, and the clever little hollow in the stone. His favorite part was the moment when everything finally stayed put—and the funny fold they could use next time.

He smiled, settled his beak beneath one wing, and let the quiet evening carry him toward sleep.