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Deep beneath the sticky swamp canopy, a giant pair of yellow reptilian eyes blink open in the muggy dusk. The Beast is alive. With a snorting, grunting bellow, it coughs awake, scattering armadillos and wild pigs through the undergrowth.

Eat your heart out, David Attenborough. You may have wrestled gorillas and stalked penguins, but you've never tracked a giant metallic lizard through the Floridian swamp. No, this may not be its natural environment but, loose in the wild, The Beast is at one with its jungly surroundings. Its camouflage is near-perfect, just a sweep of haunch and a corner of gaping mouth visible through the thicket. And, of course, those narrow, glinting eyes.

The air is tense. With a snap of twigs and a bassy scream, The Beast bolts, slinking off deep into the damp brushwood. In the heat of the night, the crunching becomes more distant, the swamp once again fading to silence...