Carnivorous Nights: On the Trail of the Tasmanian Tiger [Paperback]

Humans have a fantastic ability to destroy. We are in essence the most dangerous animal alive and of living things only microorganisms are able to cause as much or more havoc. Island life forms are the most vulnerable to the human onslaught. Among our numerous disasters, the isolated biota of Australia and Tasmania has heavily felt the result of that attack. Many species are extinct and many more on the edge because of humans and their attendant placental associates like cats, foxes and rabbits.

Margaret Mittelbach and Michael Crewdson, attended by their highly eccentric illustrator Alexis Rockman and his girl friend Dorothy Spears and occasionally others, including several Tasmanian inhabitants, became involved in their hunt for one of the victims of this human invasion, the supposed extinct Tasmanian tiger, and the result is a very eccentric and very interesting book "Carnivorous Nights: On the Trail of the Tasmanian Tiger."

I have to admit that the Tassie tiger intrigues me as well, ever since I saw an old photo of one yawning their impossibly wide yawn. The somewhat dog-like body combined with tiger stripes and huge number of teeth (much like the opossum - its North American relative) makes it a charming animal, despite its reputation as a sheep-killer. Supposedly the last one died in a zoo in Hobart, Tasmania, in 1936, but continued reports of sightings made the tiger legendary. The authors (like some of the people they interview in Tasmania) become totally obsessed with looking for these elusive beasts (and who knows perhaps they will come back from the brink much like the recently rediscovered ivory-billed woodpecker!) The resulting book is well worth the price of admission as it allows us into an almost unknown world of giant crayfish, potoroos, wombats and the very feisty and still extant Tasmanian devil. In the end we are still left with the possibility of the tiger's existence, either in Tasmania or possibly the southern coast of Australia itself. Perhaps it is gone... but then perhaps not.

Unfortunately, finally the reader is left with the distinct perception that much of the wilderness of this part of the world and indeed other parts, including our own (wherever we live), is up for sale. The sign that that extols the value in board feed of a local native tree is a case in point. Many humans tend to know the price of everything and the value of nothing. Unless we change this we may become as dead as the Tasmanian tiger may be!

This book is a good read and at least the reader will get an interesting tour of a very unfamiliar part of the world and its (to us) weird wildlife.

The book is depressing because it's about extinction and endangerment; it's funny because our authors manage to stay optimistic and cheerful in the face of extinction. They have an extremely clear eye for the foibles of humans, as well as for the traits of the animals they see. It takes talented writers to make roadkill amusing; these guys manage it.

If you've ever read Gerald Durrell, then you would find this book similar, both in the attitude toward travel and the observations of native humans. The humor is somewhat similar, too, although of course Durrell's is a bit dated by now. If you read and enjoy this book, then I'd strongly encourage you to go find and read anything you can by Gerald Durrell, especially his earlier books.

Completely by coincidence, during the same week that I read this book, I read a story by Harry Turtledove in a science fiction magazine, and an article in a newspaper about lemurs. Turtledove's story was about an alternate history where the island of Atlantis did not sink, and it has a great deal of unique island wildlife, like Tasmania or Madagascar. The plot of the story was that John James Audubon goes to visit Atlantis to sketch and paint all the endangered wildlife there - because of course, the incursion of man onto the island has endangered most of the species. The story highlights the casual cruelty of 19th-century practices, killing rare animals just to pose and paint them and stuff them for museums; I contrasted that to the care that Mittlebach et al. take not to kill anything, and Alexis' efforts to connect to the animals he is painting by using their bioproducts to make paint. Then the article in a Maine newspaper was about a 14-year old who had saved money since she was 6 years old to go to Madagascar and work on lemur conservation; she accomplished her trip finally, and I felt that the viewpoint of the young generation on the many endangered island animals also added to my appreciation of what the authors of "Carnivorous Nights" were seeing on Tasmania.

The paintings in the book are wonderful; I only could wish some were in color. I have always been fond of wombats, echidnas, and platypodes (or platypuses if you want to simplify it), and have stuffed toys of each (yes, I am half a century old and have a large collection of plush toy marsupials, insectivores, extinct reptiles, and assorted endangered species) and had the fun of meeting an echidna face to face once; it was the short-beaked kind, not the long-beaked one, but still odd enough.

A short "family-reading" alert: while the topic is ideal for kids, there are a few things some parents might object to - assorted unmarried people sharing hotel rooms, more than a few four-letter words, a lot of discussion of blood, gore, and animal parts. I personally don't think there's anything here an 11-year old wouldn't already have met, but your children may vary, and I suspect that more than one 8-year old would have nightmares after the scene about feeding a Tasmanian devil. But definitely, the whole family should get to see the pictures, and get to hear about baby pademelons and Bennett's wallabies!

Science geeks, thylacine fans, travel daydreamers and scat fetishists will love this book. Scrap that. Anyone who enjoys good writing will enjoy this book. The geeks, thyfans, travel nuts and scatologists will just be jealous. The assorted imagery of current Tasmania -- sounds, smells and sweat -- are as appealing as the discriptions of roadkill are not. The tales of the Tasmanian tiger are heartbreaking, not just because I've been like, so totally into this critter since I was like, 8 or something, but because there is no reason whatsoever for said critter to be extinct. The frustration of that, and the urgency and passion of their hunt to add to the lists of sasquatch-esque thylacine sightings are tangible throughout. And the artwork is as poignant as it is gross. Both poignancy and grossness leave goosebumps.

Manditory quibble so I don't sound like a cheerleader: The various puns, often while involving minor fish-out-of-hemisphere tales of New Yorkers in the bush -- not as good as they might have seemed in the rough drafts. But then again, I just wanted more images of Tasmanian devils eating their way, tuchus-first, through various pademelon corpses. I'm single-minded that way.

The final result is, again, a very worthy-of-your-time book. But you'll read it fast, and want more. Might I suggest a follow-up hunt for the Steller's sea cow?

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