Are all herbivores nervous

Everything flows towards the Olympiahalle. I stream with them - in one hand a child's hand, in the other two tickets that will secure me the everlasting mom bonus: tickets for the dinosaur show In the realm of the giants. With my visit to the eleven million euro spectacle, I will forever have a stone in the board with my son. Like probably 90 percent of all six-year-olds, he wants to become a "dinosaur researcher, what else".

However, he only knows the critters from books or cartoons. They stumble through Kika as talking, cuddly dinosaur children Land before our time and show solidarity with vegetarians. That's a good thing, because when the "terrible Sven" appears on the horizon at Wickie's, my child is already calling for reinforcement in a thin voice.

A colleague, doctor of philosophy, gives me an insight into the child's soul on the way: "Do you know why children love dinosaurs so? Because they are extinct. Because they can be absolutely sure that there are no more dinosaurs, that's why. " If that is the case, the popcorn will probably get stuck in my son's throat, if suddenly a life-size, roaring one Tyrannosaurus rex stamps through the arena. Now, after 65 million years, it is said that they are back - and now also in Munich.

Maybe the little one will be in shock? Should I have let him play with Bionicle figures more often? Or pirates of the Caribbean, Part 1 to 3, take a look? Now it's too late anyway, we fight our way to the stands, whose folding chairs could easily have come from the Jura. There, where already ZZ top bobbed in sync with the beards, Jethro-Tull-Star Ian Anderson blew one-legged into the flute and Eros Ramazzotti dumbled into the microphone, now an oversized mouth gapes, the sharp teeth of which a little bit Crazy guys- Remember logo.

It booms and thunders - maybe it wasn't a good idea to sit so far forward after all. The result is not a monster, but a little man. He introduces himself as a palaeontologist named Huxley and asks not to use flash when taking pictures because it makes the animals nervous. (The flashing continues, but my son screams in panic as soon as I point the camera on the stage: "Don't flash!")

The paleontologist begins to talk, the child falls into TV mode: chin drops down, eyes straight ahead. Spotlight falls on a clutch of dinosaur eggs from which two young are hatching. One thing is certain: if the lessons were underlaid with BBC film music, the teacher stood in front of a screen, framed by monster teeth - she would be sure of the undivided attention of all students.

The first dinosaur enters the stage. It is a Liliensternus. The leathery skin, the movement of the muscles - it looks damn real, as far as you are a person of the 20th / 21st century. Century can judge. To do this, the technicians use a kind of "muscle bag" system: stretchable mesh fabric is filled with styrofoam balls and pulled over the moving parts of the body. There are people in the smaller figures, the human gait betrays them a bit.

Liliensternus grabs one of the newly hatched dinosaur babies, chews it and roars. The son bites his pretzel with relish ("Did you hear he burped!"). No, fear looks different.

Mama comes offended. It looks impressive, albeit a bit sedate. Typical herbivores. The larger animals are remote-controlled and are supported by a kind of mobile stand. Each dinosaur carries, among other things, up to 132 meters of hydraulic hoses and a kilometer of cable and needs around seven kilowatts of electricity from twelve truck batteries. Each giant is controlled by two "puppeteers". To do this, they use so-called voodoo dummies, i.e. miniatures with identical functions. The "puppeteer" moves the little figure; a computer analyzes the movements and transmits them via radio to the dinosaur, which then executes the movement.

So that the animal doesn't run into the gang, a driver is hidden underneath to guide it through the arena.

It's thundering again. The continent - a rock structure - is breaking apart before the eyes of the audience, the moderator tells of tectonic shifts and announces a major slump: "Hold on tight!" (The son, pretzel in his mouth, clings to the back of the chair with both hands.) Welcome to the Jura. Plants sprout, palms grow before our eyes. Enter the stage ("Do I still have to hold on?") Stegosaurusfollowed by a huge one Brachiosaurus with his even bigger mother. We learn from the speaker that the animal gains a ton per year, although it only feeds on ferns and pines - "without any fries!"

Read on the next page: How the dinosaurs get around ...