I am on a quest for a Komodo dragon. These antediluvian beasts are highly endangered, found only on two tiny islands of the Indonesian archipelago, Rinca and Komodo. Two guides accompany me, one to show me the way and the other to protect me. I stick by the one with the rifle. I'm not proud.

We begin our journey on Komodo Island in the swelter of the equatorial mid morning. For three hours we cross savanna, scramble up and over craggy peaks, and finally arrive at a natural spring where deer, and thus dragons, often congregate. We find a partly shady spot on a nearby mound and take up a silent, sweaty vigil. I am fidgety with anticipation.

Not for long. He is huge! A Jurassic looking monster at least 12 feet long and weighing over 300 pounds. From my not so concealed perch I stare into his menacing eyes, only yards away. He stares back. Neither of us seems to know what to do next. I think about running but am not feeling especially fast at the moment. I scan nearby trees for an easy climb. There are none. On a positive note the guide with the gun is still around, and only half asleep.

I finally relax a little, enough to comprehend my guest. He is a legend come alive, slowly lumbering toward me. His pink, forked tongue flicks in and out a savage mouth, scanning the world for prey. PREY? Buggers! He is close enough now that I can almost touch his pebbly hide, which, several sizes large for him, hangs in horizontal folds along his flanks and under his powerful neck. The only thing missing is the fiery breath. So far.