Beyond the occasional shriek from a pointing child, the crocodile enclosure at Johnsons Zoo is normally a place of calm.
Something about these prehistoric beasts demands reverence and tends to make visitors emit tiny gasps of awe and speak in cathedral tones.
It was like this at lunchtime on Thursday as small groups filed along an elevated walkway in a converted cattle barn, peering over a metal barrier (not unlike the kind that separate crowds from red-carpet celebrities) down at the pit 15ft below.
But at just after 1pm something happened at the zoo near Huntingdon in Cambridgeshire that had the effect of
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