You are in the lakesides of South America, 105 million years ago.

You knelt low in the cool, wet mud, watching the shimmer of the shallow lagoon. A flash of pink caught my eye. A flock of Pterodaustro had landed near the shoreline, looking remarkably like modern flamingos with their long, elegant legs and rosy, pycnofibre-coated bodies.

One, in particular, was only a few feet away, seemingly unbothered by your presence. As it dipped its remarkably long, upturned, toothy jaw into the water, you could see the incredible structure of its mouth. The lower jaw was lined with over a thousand fine, needle-like teeth—like a comb or a baleen sieve.

With a sharp snap-hiss of water, it lifted its head, trapping small crustaceans and brine shrimp in its “comb”, filtering out the mud. A small fish tried to escape, but the pterosaur’s bristled, pink beak trapped it. It swallowed, blinking with a calm, reptilian eye, before turning to preen a small patch of fur-like feathers on its shoulder, completely adapted to its specialized way of life.