Carnivorous Nights Read online

  Praise for CARNIVOROUS NIGHTS

  “A top-drawer journey into the natural history of Tasmania from two Brooklyn-based nature writers … neatly and wonderfully sews together natural science and travel yarn.”

  —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

  “The quixotic quest at the heart of Carnivorous Nights is more than just endearing and engrossing, it's inspiring.”

  —Jonathan Safran Foer, author of Everything Is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

  “Beautifully observed, excitingly reported, [and] laugh-out-loud funny … This book will surely become a classic of wildlife adventure and travel writing.”

  —Marie Winn, author of Red-Tails in Love: A Wildlife Drama in Central Park

  “A detailed nature guide and a humorous and engaging adventure story.”

  —Science News

  “Engaging, witty …[with] stunning drawings of the wildlife …From Mittelbach and Crewdson's descriptions, it's hard not to become enamored of the tiger … and the cavalcade of human characters is just as compelling.”

  —Plenty magazine

  “A stuffed tiger sends three New Yorkers to the ends of the earth—where they encounter devils, charnel houses and eco-madness. The Devil's Isle will never be the same again. This is taxidermy's greatest tough-love story.”

  —Tim Flannery, author of A Gap in Nature: Discovering the World's Extinct Animals

  “Sit down in a comfortable chair and get totally absorbed, as I did, with companions every bit as charming and more informative than André (as in My Dinner with).”

  —Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson, author of Dogs Never Lie About Love and When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals

  “Alexis Rockman and the thylacine are two of the most fascinating critters that have ever prowled the woods of Tasmania or the galleries and basketball courts of New York. Put them together, and you're off on a roaring adventure.”

  —David Quammen, author of The Song of the Dodo

  “[Carnivorous Nights] was like literary and artistic crack—it was so good I did not want to put it down and found myself going to bed much too late just so I could find out what happened next. It's full of suspense, wit, quirky characters, haunting paintings, and insight into nature and extinction.”

  —E. J. McAdams,

  executive director, New York City Audubon

  “The authors recount their adventures with an offbeat sense of humor that makes the book appealing to a wide audience. Rockman's charming illustrations—made using organic materials he gathered on the trip— add a touch of whimsy to this delightful tale.”

  —Islands magazine

  Dedicated to

  Charemaine and Quinn Li

  —M.C.

  Jon Carlo, Molly, and Danilo

  —M.M.

  my father, Raphael Russell Rockman

  —A.R.

  CONTENTS

  List of Illustrations

  Map of Tasmania

  1. A Peculiar Animal

  2. Rock Art

  3. The Once and Future Tiger

  4. The Extinction Cabinet

  5. Crossing the Strait

  6. Day of the Dead

  7. The Road to Tigerville

  8. Devil Night

  9. Hopping

  10. Sexy Beast

  11. Suicide Hen

  12. Miller Time

  13. A Tiger Hunter

  14. Fishy Feast of the Fairies

  15. Listening for Tigers

  16. 1-300-FOX-OUT

  17. The Red Fog

  18. Sunbathing in Hell

  19. Way Down Under

  20. Drinking in the Tiger Bar

  21. The Name Is Trowunna

  22. Mythical Creatures

  23. Quolling About

  24. Blood and Slops

  25. Beaches and Beasts

  26. In the Name of George Prideaux Harris

  27. Senator Thylacine

  28. Flailing in the Styx

  29. Cryptid

  30. Remains

  Acknowledgments

  Notes

  Suggested Reading and Viewing

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  Map of Tasmania South Cape Bay soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches XIII

  Thylacine Beaumaris Zoo soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 2

  Diamond Python Port Hacking soil and charcoal, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 13

  White Ibis Port Hacking soil and charcoal, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 15

  Gray-headed Flying Fox Port Hacking soil and charcoal, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 16

  Gray-headed Flying Fox Port Hacking soil and charcoal, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 26

  Thylacine Adamsfield soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 36

  Sulphur-crested Cockatoo Milkshakes Forest Preserve soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 44

  Echidna Soil from Gordon River Road and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 53

  Inchman Soil from Bicheno and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 12 × 9 inches 66

  Jack Jumper Naarding Site soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 75

  Tasmanian Devil Soil from Kings Run near Marrawah and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 77

  Bennett's Wallaby Pulverized rotting wood, wallaby fur, and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 91

  Tree Fern Decayed fern stem from Styx Forest and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 12 × 9 inches 96

  Giant Crayfish Soil from the Hebe River and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 110

  Tasmanian Native Hen Mud from the Hebe River and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 112

  Tasmanian Devil Kings Run soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 121

  Tasmanian Wombat Wombat fecal matter and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 123

  Tasmanian Devil Soil from Kings Run near Marrawah and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 129

  Wombat Wombat fecal matter and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 132

  Thylacine Adamsfield soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 134

  Thylacine Tracks Naarding Site soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 141

  Fairy Penguin Swansea soil, soil from muttonbird nest, and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 145

  Pademelon Kings Run soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 152

  Thylacine Kings Run soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 160

  Thylacine Kings Run soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 163

  Brushtail Possum Soil from South Coast Track and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 164

  Long-nosed Potoroo Launceston Field Naturalists Club soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 172

  Tasmanian Bettong Launceston Field Naturalists Club soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 183

  Ferns Soil and fern matter from Styx Forest and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 185

  Cave Crickets Meander River sediment and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 198

  Cave Spider Meander River sediment and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 206

  Muttonbird Soil from muttonbird nest and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 213

  Tasmanian Platypus Meander River sediment and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 221

  Spotted-tailed Quoll Meander River sediment and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 228

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p; Eastern Quoll Meander River sediment and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 236

  Weedy Sea Dragon Kelp from Bay of Fires and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9 × 12 inches 246

  Big Bellied Seahorse Kelp from Bay of Fires and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 248

  Sperm Whale and Giant Squid Spermaceti and oil paint on gessoed paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 257

  Thylacine Adamsfield soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 258

  Land Leech Pulverized leech, human blood, instant coffee, and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 269

  Thylacine Beaumaris Zoo soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 271

  Eucalyptus regnans Soil from Styx Forest and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 12 × 9 inches 281

  Wedge-tailed Eagle Fern fronds from Styx Forest and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 12 × 9 inches 289

  Thylacine Naarding site soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 9 × 12 inches 291

  Thylacine Beaumaris Zoo soil and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 9⅛ × 12¼ inches 302

  Thylacine Soil from Clear Hill Road near Lake Gordon and acrylic polymer on paper, 2003 12 × 9 inches 307

  Fairy Penguins Swansea soil, soil from muttonbird nest and acrylic polymer on paper, 2004 12¼ × 9⅛ inches 310

  1. A PECULIAR ANIMAL

  Afew years ago we began visiting a stuffed and mounted animal skin with something akin to amorous fervor. We didn't tell our friends about this secret relationship. We feared they would think it was unhealthy to be infatuated with a dead animal.

  The object of our obsession resided at the American Museum of Natural History in Manhattan. Best known for its towering dinosaur skeletons and beautiful but creepy dioramas of gorillas and stuffed birds, the museum also housed a library where we did research. On the way there, we would walk through the perpetual twilight of the museum's halls, passing meteorite fragments, African carvings, and a life-sized herd of motionless pachyderms.

  When exactly we first saw this magnificent animal is lost in the recesses of memory, but we remember being instantly captivated by its exotic form. We marveled at its still limbs, at its head posed coyly downward, at its glorious Seussian stripes. It was a taxidermy of a Tasmanian tiger inside a rectangular glass case, and it was positioned in such a lifelike manner, its mouth curved in a friendly canine smile, that we found ourselves feeling affection for it as if it were a long-lost pet. It had fifteen dark brown stripes across the back of its ginger-colored coat, which is why it was called a tiger, but the stripes were where that resemblance ended. Its body was shaped more like a wolf's or wild dog's.

  Discreetly tucked between the “Birds of the World” dioramas and a man-jaguar monster carved in jade, the tiger did not seem to be a very popular exhibit. Despite our own fascination, there was never a crowd around it. Many visitors walked by without giving it a glance. Admittedly, the tiger was not the museum's newest attraction. In fact, it was an antique. A fading label said the animal from which it was fashioned died in 1919.

  As the months passed, our attentions became more pointed. We spent our lunch breaks in front of the tiger, admiring its doggish head and wicket-shaped grin. We became so enamored that we began daydreaming about it while we were supposed to be reading about the mating behavior of horseshoe crabs in the library. Sometimes we imagined our tiger stalking through a generic jungle habitat in search of unknown prey, its bold stripes rippling through a scrim of green. We often wondered if Tasmania was as unlikely and exotic as the tiger itself.

  Finally, we decided to do a background check on the specimen. The museum, in addition to its main library, had avenues of research normally off-limits to the public. But as nature writers we could always talk our way behind the scenes. We made an appointment to visit the museum's mammal library, and when we walked in, it felt like we had traveled back in time or at least walked onto the set of a period film. There were heavy wooden railings, black wrought iron shelves, tiled glass walkways, and an old dumbwaiter. Near the door, cabinets filled with yellowing ledger books chronicled the mammalogy department's acquisitions, starting in 1885. Each numbered entry, written in the feathery black ink of a fountain pen, listed the specimen's scientific name, where it was collected, the name of the collector, and when the specimen was received.

  We started to go through the entries, and it was daunting. There were thousands of them. Not being 100 percent familiar with the arcana of scientific nomenclature, we had to rely on fading memories of Greek and Latin studied years ago. For example, Volume 5 of the mammal catalogue listed no. 32732 as the skull of Loxodonta africana, an African elephant shot by Theodore Roosevelt “East of Meru Boma, just north of Kenia.” No. 27901 was the skull of Rangifer pearyi, a type of caribou, collected in the “Arctic Regions” by Commodore Robert E. Peary. No. 35185 was the skeleton of another Loxodonta africana, this one a circus elephant, donated by Barnum & Bailey. No. 35180 was the carcass of Canis familiaris, a domestic dog (actually a French poodle) collected at 621/2 East 125th Street in Manhattan and donated by a Dr. Blackburne. And finally there was our specimen. No. 35866 was the body of Thylacinus cynocephalus, donated by the Bronx Zoo in 1919.

  We learned that the scientific name Thylacinus cynocephalus meant “pouched animal with a dog head.” And the name thylacine (THY-luh-scene) was used almost as commonly as Tasmanian tiger. We also discovered that the animal was a marsupial, with a pouch like a kangaroo or a possum, and not closely related to tigers, wolves, dogs, or any of the familiar species it somewhat resembled. The museum's thylacine had been caught in the wild on the island of Tasmania, brought to New York on a creaking ship, and displayed at the Bronx Zoo for two years. When it died, its body was sent over to the Museum of Natural History to be preserved.

  Taxidermy has always been a strange art. From old letters in the li-brary's files, we gathered that the zoo frequently provided the museum with specimens of exotic animals. The zoo's first director, William Temple Hornaday, had a strong interest in taxidermy, and the curator of the museum's mammal department, J. A. Allen, had provided him with arsenic to help preserve the bodies, pelts, and skins. In this case, the tiger's skin had been skillfully stitched to a wire-and-clay model and the result was an almost flawless simulacrum of a Tasmanian tiger.

  Out of a collection of more than 32 million specimens, the Tasmanian tiger is designated one of the museum's fifty most treasured items. Why? Because there are remarkably few specimens. The Tasmanian tiger is presumed to be extinct. That makes specimen no. 35866 rarer than a star sapphire, rarer than a Rembrandt.

  The fact that our beloved tiger had a tragic past increased our interest. This rare species had lived in Tasmania for thousands of years and been the island's top predator. But when the British colonized the island in the early nineteenth century, what had been an ark, floating serenely in southern seas, became a deathtrap. The tiger was considered a threat to the colonists' livestock and they began hunting it down. A bounty was paid to anyone who brought in a dead tiger—and by the early part of the twentieth century, the Tasmanian tiger's population began to hang in the balance.

  On September 7, 1936, at a small zoo in Hobart, Tasmania's capital, a thylacine (the last one in captivity anywhere in the world) passed away in the middle of the night. It's believed that it died of exposure. Numerous searches were launched to replace it. Traps were set. But no more tigers, live or dead, were captured. The Hobart zoo's thylacine became the proverbial “last tiger.” For the next fifty years, the searches continued, but no tangible evidence of the tiger was uncovered. In 1986, the thylacine was declared extinct by international standards. But this announcement did not fully penetrate on the island.

  In Tasmania people continued to look for the tiger. What's more people saw it. Multiple sightings of the thylacine are still reported each year. It's seen chasing a wallaby, crossing a road, running along the island's shore. These sightings raise a glimmer of hope that the species survives. How
bright that glimmer was we didn't know. The thrill of such a sighting swept over us. We imagined being in Tasmania and seeing a tiger gripping a dead kangaroo in its mouth, racing past our flickering campfire deep in the bush. We knew it was a long shot. But the tiger seemed to be calling our names.

  Nearly seventy years after the last confirmed thylacine died, we stood in front of specimen no. 35866 at the Museum of Natural History. The taxidermy was so exquisite it seemed frozen in time. Sometimes we fantasized our tiger might be reanimated, that it might bust out of its glass case and trot down the museum's halls, its smiling mouth gleaming with rows of sharp teeth as it bade adieu to the dusty old animals that complacently accepted their fates. Maybe it would bite a tourist on its way out the door.

  Then one day we went to visit and the tiger wasn't there. Its glass case was empty. A wave of panic swept over us. We asked around, but no one knew where it had gone. Finally, a clerk in the library told us she thought the thylacine had been moved to a temporary exhibit on genomics. Genomics? What was it doing there?

  After navigating the museum's long hallways and winding stairwells, we found it. The exhibit, called “The Genomics Revolution,” was jarring, filled with lights flashing the letters A, T, C, and G, the primary components of DNA. Miniature video screens surrounded a huge DNA model. The thylacine was hard to see and crammed in the very back. A card explained why the thylacine had been moved. Halfway across the world in an Australian lab, scientists were initiating a project to clone the Tasmanian tiger. Their goal was to bring this vanished species back to life. A specimen pickled in alcohol more than one hundred years ago was said to have enough intact DNA to make it possible. Seeing our tiger friend in this new light gave us a chill. The thylacine was teetering unsteadily between the categories of “presumed extinct” and “soon-to-be-alive.” We didn't know what to make of it. Apparently, we weren't the only ones obsessed with this animal. We were overcome with a sudden urge to meet the people who believed the tiger was still lurking in its old island haunts, the scientists who planned to resurrect it, and the pundits who cast it into the oblivion of extinction. Maybe they could help us sort it all out.