You are in the forested plains of North America, 150 million years ago.

The ground trembles as you cross a dry stream bed. Ahead of you, more thick foliage blocks your path of the water to a height of about fifteen feet. But around you, crashing sounds of vegetation are heard, and are slowly getting louder and closer. The trees shiver right behind you, and amidst the crushing foliage, a low, deep bellowing call is heard.

The trees right at the edge of the streambed sway and part, and a small group of Stegosaurus step into view, lumbering out into the open clearing. They are huge, with a double row of spade-like plates running along the crest of each of their backs, casting long shadows under the sunlight. Their tails, with four long spikes at the end, slowly swing from side to side and a warning that while they may be peaceful by nature, they are far from being defenseless. A few juveniles, about the quarter of the size of the adults, with smaller, triangular plates, and stubs for their tail spikes, follow closely for protection.

It is an amazing sight to behold as you get a good look at the armored herbivores close-up.

The Stegosaurus herd continues moving on, plowing through the thick canopy of brush to the other side of the stream bed, apparently unconcerned about you in their surroundings.