I think about Dinosaur State Park in the same way many of you might think about a secret crush, a mysterious and intriguing stranger, or someone who was once a mysterious and intriguing stranger but with whom you’ve made eye contact often enough to share a quiet intimacy. I’ve always imagined it would be like Jurassic Park, with a giant bamboo entrance and the whole park ablaze with tiki torches and spattered blood spilled by farm animals and visitors alike. Will our Jeep break down during the tour? Will we be attacked? I cruise past DSP on Route 91 every time I come or go from Wes, and never have I passed it without whispering to myself: Dinosaur State Park, Closed Mondays. And what is a dinosaur state park? And what are dinosaurs?
The answers are finally here.
It was a Sunday afternoon. I brought a magnifying glass, several canteens in case I got lost and a gun. Unfortunately, they made me leave my gun at the front gate. Fortunately, I also brought a small laser to confuse the animals while I made my escape.
It only took us about ten minutes to get to the Park, maybe because I was speeding or maybe because where does the time go when you’re so excited!? There were neither bamboo archways nor burning torches, but there was a remarkably spacious parking lot with a remarkable amount of handicapped spots and a quiet stone timeline pathway leading to the main building. From afar, DSP looks like a small Epcot with a metallic dome shaped like a giant dinosaur egg. Inside, we learned that the building was constructed primarily to house 500 fossilized dinosaur tracks, which are the highlight of the park, and around which all other features revolve. At this point it was becoming clear that DSP wasn’t going to be as scary and dangerous as I had anticipated, which was both a relief and a disappointment.
We saw a bunch of exhibits about how dinosaurs walked, how fossils are found, how shale and sandstone are layered in the earth and a lot of photographs from 1966 when the tracks were discovered. It was all pretty dry, but our most exciting moment came when we were looking at the tracks and the house lights darkened and colored spotlights started crossing over the fossils, showing the paths of the dinosaurs. A little girl screamed and fell down and another cried “What’s happening!?” It was awesome.
The exhibit space was pretty heavy on the scientific explanations and not heavy enough on the sound effects—lots of crickets chirping and only an occasional dinosaur breathing heavily. There were also a lot of models of extinct plants, which were boring, but they did have cool models of animals from the Jurassic like giant dragonflies and old-fashioned crocodiles. Along the “marshes” were models of mammoth cockroaches that one little boy with fidgety hands informed me were “cute”—or at least that’s what it sounded like he was saying. Probably the best part was an action scene the museum set up where two scary birds were chasing a gigantic dragonfly.
Off of the main exhibit was a demonstration room filled with a lot of excitedly chatting kids, some of whom were chanting “Blink!” to an Asian Water Dragon in a tank. Other cages were filled with hissing cockroaches, and one held a sad tree frog that a thoughtful little girl with long brown hair helped me find. Across the way was an auditorium showing educational films about dinosaurs, excavations, and evolution. The same little girl who fell down earlier was in there and she exclaimed “dinosaur” many times throughout the film, except for when she started saying “spider” and “get them.” The movie was interesting but, to be honest, I had really wanted to see graphic dinosaur attack scenes, which were not included in the 15 minute Claymation film. And after the excitement over the light show, I’m just not sure how well it would have gone over.
After we bought some strange postcards and 25-cent dinosaur pins at the gift shop, we hit the nature trails. These were a bit of a letdown because they were basically ice paths, so we abandoned them after about 15 minutes. Also, it was cold.
Another intriguing and popular feature of the DSP is making molds of the tracks, and when I heard about it, I was like: “Yes, definitely!” So they were like “Okay great! Did you bring your cooking oil, cloth rags, five-gallon plastic bucket and ten pounds of plaster-of-paris?” So I said “Sure, let me go get it from my car.” Then we just drove home instead. That’s a heads-up for those of you who want to bring your own weird supplies.
The bottom line is that DSP is a great place to be if you’re 4-8 years old, or an enthusiastic parent who likes to read out loud. Or me. Or a dinosaur. The whole experience made me nostalgic for the days when I was excited by being able to touch a footprint or talk with other kids. Dinosaur State Park could be a refreshing trip away from Wesleyan, particularly if you like little kids or are dating a paleontologist. But not, however, if you are expecting to fight dinosaurs or meet other college students.
Some pertinent info:
www.dinosaurstatepark.org, 860 529-8423, $5 admission to exhibits, park is free.
Exit 23 off Rt. 91
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