You are in the shorelines of North America, 80 million years ago.

The air in the valley was thick, smelling of sulfur and rotting fish. You have been hiking for hours along the edge of the jagged coastline, when you hear several chirp-like shrieks echoing off the rocks nearby. A sudden shadow draped itself over you. It wasn’t a cloud.

You look up just in time to see a Pteranodon gliding silently on the updrafts, its head adorned with a long, backwards-swept bony crest. It circled around the shore, then disappeared around the corner of the cliff where you are headed. The screeching noises grew louder as you drew closer.

When you made your way around the cliff, you see a dozen of Pteranodons - around ten to fifteen males with their large head crests, and twenty or more smaller females resting or nesting in the crags. The air filled with a cacophony of their shriek-like cries and the heavy, thrumming sound of hundreds of square feet of leather wing-membrane catching the wind.