Imagine a studious young brontosaurus, curled up on the couch reading while a storm rages outside. The book in his claws is Brontë's Wuthering Heights, which he chose based on the title (thinking it might contain characters as relatably statuesque as himself).
Thunder claps boom, rattling the windows, and he looks up nervously - but he isn't afraid. Brontosauri aren't scared of thunder, because they're just as big as it. In fact if he were to put down the book and run to his bedroom (where underneath the blankets the storm would surely not seem so loud), the sound of his massive legs hitting the floor would drown out that crashing thunder.
But he won't do that. Because studious young brontosauri aren't so bothered by thunder that they'll put aside their Brontë and hide. Not this one, anyway.
(And now perhaps you won't forget the word brontology, which is the study of thunder.)