NEVER IN NEW ZEALAND! WHEN THYLACINES STALKED KIWIS??

Albeit for all the wrong reasons, a very memorable engraving prepared by Friedrich Specht, portraying a concealed thylacine in the wild paying very close attention to a couple of unsuspecting kiwis nearby – from Das Buch Für Alle (1890) (public domain)

I used to think that double-takes were exclusive to clowns in circuses and comedy actors in silent movies. Yet not so long ago, while browsing the internet in search of information regarding the Queensland moa (click here to read my subsequent ShukerNature coverage of this avian anomaly), I performed a double-take that even the great Chaplin himself would, I'm sure, have been justifiably proud.

And the reason for my doing so was that I had unexpectedly caught sight of the illustration opening this present ShukerNature article – an illustration whose content did not immediately register upon my consciousness, so that my gaze momentarily passed elsewhere – until, that is, its patent zoological absurdity suddenly detonated inside my mind, causing me to look back instantly at it, mesmerised by doubt, amazement, and total bewilderment!

Yes, I had observed it correctly – this extraordinary engraving did indeed portray a concealed thylacine (aka Tasmanian wolf and Tasmanian tiger) Thylacinus cynocephalus in the wild paying very close attention to a trio of unsuspecting kiwis nearby. Artistically, it was well executed, but zoogeographically it was preposterous, for the simple reason that although thylacines are known from physical evidence to have existed at one time or another in Tasmania (confirmed until 1936), the Australian mainland (confirmed until c.2,300 years ago), and New Guinea (confirmed until c.4,500 years ago), these remarkably wolf-like marsupial mammals have never existed at any time in New Zealand, whereas kiwis have never existed anywhere else at any time other than in New Zealand.

So how can we explain this illustration of the impossible, depicting a scene that could never have occurred in nature?

Engraving of Friedrich Specht, from 1892 (public domain)

Researching it online, I discovered to my great surprise that this most perplexing picture had been prepared by none other than the celebrated German wildlife illustrator Friedrich Specht (1839-1909), whose exquisite natural history engravings adorned many major multi-volume works published during the late 1800s, including Alfred E. Brehm's Brehms Tierleben (1864-1869) and Sir Richard Lydekker's The Royal Natural History (1894-1896). More specifically, I learned that this particular engraving by him had appeared in Das Buch Für Alle (1890), though I have so far been unable to locate a copy of the latter public-domain book online in order to see the engraving in situ and thus discover the precise context in which it appeared.

Bearing in mind how meticulously accurate his wildlife artwork has always been in the various natural history tomes containing it that I have both perused and purchased down through the years (including Lydekker's above-mentioned series and an English translation of Brehm's), the only plausible if somewhat startling explanation for this incongruous image is that Specht simply wasn't aware either that thylacines have never existed in New Zealand or that kiwis have never existed in Tasmania or mainland Australia. Yet someone as zoologically knowledgeable as Specht would certainly have done, surely?

Perhaps not, because while researching this thylacine-featuring Specht engraving I came upon a second example that included what may be another zoogeographical mismatch. As seen here, this one, which once again had appeared in Das Buch Für Alle, featured two thylacines pursuing an emu Dromaius novaehollandiae. On first sight, this seems straightforward, because Tasmania was indeed once home its very own emu subspecies, D. n. diemenensis, but which, tragically, had been hunted into extinction by the mid-1800s. However, it was supposedly distinguishable morphologically from the mainland Australian version, D. n. novaehollandiae, not only by throat-related colouring and neck feathering differences (paler throat, unfeathered neck) but also by a somewhat smaller overall size.

Yet based upon the relative proportions of the emu and the thylacines depicted in Specht's engraving, and also the appearance of that emu's throat (dark) and neck (feathered), it seems to me that the latter bird is of the mainland Australian subspecies rather than of the Tasmanian subspecies. However, as the thylacine became extinct on the mainland over 2,000 years ago, it would surely be rather unlikely that mainland Australia was the setting portrayed in this image.

Specht's engraving of two thylacines pursuing a taxonomically ambiguous emu, from Das Buch Für Alle (1890) (public domain)

Once again, therefore, Specht's knowledge of Antipodean fauna may have been deficient here, not realising that the Tasmanian emu looked different from its mainland Australian relative, and/or not realising that the thylacine had died out long ago in mainland Australia.

Having said that, it is true that around the time of the Tasmanian emu's extinction, mainland Australian emus were introduced onto its island homeland, and there is even some thought that these mainland interlopers may have actually hastened their native Tasmanian kin into extinction by hybridising with its last few surviving individuals. So, even if Specht's depicted emu is indeed of the mainland Australian subspecies, its occurrence in the presence of thylacines may not be inconsistent with a Tasmanian setting for his engraving after all.

Incidentally, while researching these two anomalous illustrations I also discovered that both of them were included in Tasmanian Tiger: A Lesson To Be Learnt (1998), authored by Eric Guiler and Philippe Godard, with the contribution of David Maguire. Yet while they shared my bemusement regarding the thylacine and kiwis example, and also my reservations concerning the thylacines and emu example, they did not provide any additional background information relating to either of them.

It is often said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but in at least the example of Specht's thylacine and kiwis engraving, it is probably worth a good deal less, with only its high level of artistry to commend it. Even so, discovering it was certainly a highlight of that particular online surfing session for me – then again, I am easily pleased!

Above: Hand-coloured lithograph, c.1910, of a Tasmanian emu prepared by John G. Keulemans, from The Birds of Australia by Gregory M. Mathews (public domain); Below: painting by John Gould of mainland Australian emus for his book Birds of Australia, Vol. 6 (1865) (public domain)

THE BEAST OF BUDERIM - IS AUSTRALIAN CRYPTOZOOLOGY'S STAR IN STRIPES A MAINLAND THYLACINE?

Thylacine print from 1919

Here is the first article that I ever wrote on the subject of possible thylacine survival on mainland Australia, which was published in the May 1996 issue of the now long-defunct British magazine Wild About Animals, but has never been reprinted anywhere since then – until now, in this ShukerNature exclusive:

During the mid-1990s, the Internet was awash with fascinating reports concerning the Beast of Buderim - an unidentified creature reported from Buderim (a mountainous Sunshine Coast region) in Queensland, mainland Australia, which bears an uncanny resemblance to an animal that supposedly died out here more than 2000 years ago.

Thylacine illustration from Gerald Krefft's The Mammals of Australia (1871)

Take, for example, the sighting made in March 1995 by Buderim dentist Dr Lance Mesh, who spied a mysterious creature on the fringe of an expanse of rainforest while driving near his home. According to his description, it was: "...goldy, brindly in colour, had a doggish shape and a prominent bump on its head above its eyes". Its most striking feature, however, were the black stripes across its back - "I could not take my eyes off them", said Mesh.

One of several Beast of Buderim articles from Brisbane's Sunday Mail newspaper (click it to enlarge it for reading) (© Sunday Mail, Brisbane)

On 8 August, a much more dramatic incident took place, featuring a very similar animal but this time in the vicinity of Bundaberg. Roy Swaby was driving along the main road when suddenly a full-grown male grey kangaroo bounded in front of his vehicle, forcing him to brake heavily in order to avoid hitting it. The kangaroo was evidently fleeing in terror from something - and a few moments later, Swaby discovered what it was:

"This incredible sandy-coloured striped animal leapt out from the side of the road a full fifteen feet and into the glare of my 100-watt halogen spots and four headlights. It stopped on the road, turned to look at me and fell back on to its huge hindquarters, its large green-yellow eyes glowing in the light, and then it opened its jaws and snarled at me. I have never seen anything like it. The white teeth were large and the jaws like a crocodile, like a mantrap. It took two steps and then suddenly crouched and sprang again, 15-20 feet, this time into the scrub...The animal was 4-5 feet long and its huge tail was another 2-3 feet. The stripes started halfway down its back. I thought it was like someone had cut a dingo in half and a 'roo in half and joined them together...On the Thursday following [i.e. 10 August] I went to Bundaberg to try to check in the library what it was I'd seen and I found a lithograph of a Tasmanian tiger. There is absolutely no doubt that is what I saw."

Artist's impression of the Beast of Buderim (© Sunday Mail, Brisbane)

Just like 'zebra wolf' and 'Tasmanian wolf', 'Tasmanian tiger' is one of several colloquial names for Australia's most spectacular species of carnivorous marsupial - Thylacinus cynocephalus, the thylacine - which makes it all the more tragic that this remarkable creature is 'officially' extinct. Closely resembling a golden-brown wolf or large dog, but patterned across the rear portion of its back and tail with black stripes, on mainland Australia the thylacine suffered greatly from competition with the dingo, introduced by man, and is believed to have died out here over two millennia ago. On Tasmania, however, it survived until as recently as 1936, when the last fully-confirmed specimen died in Hobart Zoo.

Taxiderm specimen of a thylacine (© Markus Bühler)

Nevertheless, numerous reports describing thylacine-like beasts have come from Tasmania since then, and it does seem possible that a small population may have survived among some of this island's wilder, less-explored regions. On the mainland, conversely, such survival would seem far less plausible - were it not for such impressive reports as those given here, and many others like them. What makes them so convincing is that their descriptions contain tell-tale thylacine features that readily discount normal dogs as likely identities.

Photograph of a thylacine revealing its jaws' exceptional gape (public domain)

Although, in evolutionary terms, the thylacine is the marsupials' answer to the wolf, its ancestry is totally separate from that of true wolves and dogs. Hence it exhibits several significant differences. Most noticeable of these are its stripes, and also its jaws. Thylacines could open their mouths to a much wider extent than wolves, yielding an incredible 120° gape - which would certainly explain's Swaby's comparison of his mystery beast's jaws with those of a crocodile. Equally unexpected was the thylacine's ability to hop on its hind legs like a kangaroo - but corresponding perfectly with Swaby's description of his beast as half-dingo, half-kangaroo. Another thylacine idiosyncrasy was a bump above its eyes - matching the account given by Dr Mesh. Also its long tail was very stiff, far less flexible than a wolf's - and several reports of thylacine-like beasts specifically refer to a stiff, rod-like tail.

Captive thylacine in kangaroo-like pose (public domain)

Time and again, Queensland and other mainland eyewitnesses have selected the thylacine as the species most similar in appearance and behaviour to the striped canine mystery beasts that they have seen - but there is an intriguing twist to this tale of would-be resurrection. The aboriginal people have their own native names for all of Australia's known modern-day animals - but they do not appear to have any for the thylacine lookalikes. Yet if these really were native mainland thylacines, surely they would have their own aboriginal names?

There is, however, one further idea to consider in relation to this apparent anomaly. Perhaps they are genuine thylacines, but not native mainland specimens. When still common in Tasmania, thylacines were imported onto the mainland as exhibits and even as exotic pets. Did some of these escape and establish populations in the wild here? If so, this could uniquely explain not only the current spate of claimed thylacine sightings but also the lack of any native Aboriginal name for them.

Thylacines, Henry Constantine Richter, 1845

POSTSCRIPT

Since writing the above article, I have uncovered one possible mainland aboriginal name (albeit not originating from Queensland) for the thylacine, which I have documented as follows in my book Dr Shuker's Casebook (2008):

Another dog of the Dreamtime is the marrukurii, which, according to aboriginal traditions prevalent in the vicinity of South Australia's Lake Callabonna, resembled a dog in outline, but was brindled with many stripes. They were believed to be dangerous, especially to human children, carrying away any that they could find to their own special camp at night, where they would savagely devour them. When questioned, the native Australians denied that the marrukurii were either domestic dogs or dingoes. Is it possible, therefore, particularly in view of their brindled appearance, that these Dreamtime beasts were actually based upon memories of the striped Tasmanian wolf or thylacine Thylacinus cynocephalus? After all, this famous dog-like marsupial did not die out on the Australian mainland until about 2300 years ago.

Name considerations aside, however, is the Beast of Buderim still being reported today? If so, I'd greatly welcome any information that ShukerNature readers can post here – thanks!

THE NEW GUINEA THYLACINE - CRYING WOLF IN IRIAN JAYA?

Captive thylacine

The official extinction in 1936 on Tasmania of the remarkable thylacine (aka Tasmanian tiger and Tasmanian wolf - Tassie for short) Thylacinus cynocephalus, that tiger-striped canine marsupial mammal as big as a wolf but which could hop like a kangaroo and had a pouch like one too, is well-documented, as is its much earlier disappearance a couple of millennia ago on the Australian mainland. Less familiar, conversely, is the fact that until at least as recently as approximately 4,500 years ago (i.e. mid-Holocene), the thylacine also existed on New Guinea, as confirmed by fossil remains of that date having been unearthed at Nombe, an archaeological site in New Guinea's highlands. Similarly, whereas the chronicles of cryptozoology are fairly bulging with unconfirmed post-1936 thylacine sightings both on Tasmania and in mainland Australia, it is not so well known that modern-day reports of suspiciously thylacine-like beasts have also emerged from New Guinea, specifically Irian Jaya (New Guinea's less-explored western, Indonesian half), where such creatures are referred to by local people as the dobsegna.

A video of living thylacines in captivity (click here)

During the early 1990s, grazier Ned Terry visited Irian Jaya and procured the following details from local testimony. Rarely seen in daylight, the dobsegna generally emerges from its den in rocks or caves at dawn or dusk, to hunt for small prey animals. Its head and shoulders are dog-like, but its mouth is huge and strong, and its tail is very long and thin. Villagers claim that from its ribs to its hips it has no intestines (but this merely suggests that it is very thin in this particular body region), and that in this region it is striped.

Dorsal view of a living thylacine, showing its impressive striping

Needless to say, this is a remarkably accurate verbal portrait of a thylacine, from the canine head and sizeable jaws to the slender stripe-adorned hindquarters and lengthy tail. Moreover, in 2003 veteran Irian Jaya explorer Ralf Kiesel confirmed to me that since 1995 there have been persistent rumours of thylacines existing in at least two sections of Irian Jaya's Baliem Valley - the Yali area in the valley's northeast region, and the NP Carstenz in its southwest. The latter area is of particular significance because back in the early 1970s Jan Sarakang, a Papuan friend of Kiesel, had a most startling experience while working with a colleague in the mountains just west of NP Carstenz.

Taxiderm thylacine and mounted skeleton at Tring Natural History Museum, formerly owned by Lord Walter Rothschild (Dr Karl Shuker)

They had built a camp for some geologists near Puncac Jaya at an altitude of roughly 1.5 miles and were sitting by their tents that evening, eating their meal, when two unfamiliar dog-like animals emerged from the bush. One was an adult, the other a cub, and both appeared pale in colour, but most striking of all was their stiff, inflexible tails, and the incredible gape of their jaws when they yawned spasmodically. Clearly drawn by the smell of the food, the two animals walked nervously from side to side, eyeing the men and their food supplies, and approaching to within 20 yards. Eventually the cub became bold enough to walk up to the men, who tried to feed it, but when one of them also tried to catch it, the cub bit his hand and both animals then ran back into the bush and were not seen again.

Thylacines (Henry Constantine Richter, 1845)

Except for their seemingly unstriped form, which may well have been a trick of the moonlight, once again these animals recalled thylacines, especially with respect to their stiff tails (a thylacine characteristic) and huge gapes. Worth noting is that the thylacine could open its mouth up to an amazing 120 degrees - far more than any true dog or wolf can do (or any other mammal, for that matter).

Captive thylacine, revealing its jaws' extraordinarily wide gape

Searches for the thylacine on Tasmania and in mainland Australia continue on a frequent, but habitually unsuccessful, basis. Perhaps it is time for Tassie seekers to turn their attention elsewhere - to the verdant, shadowy mountain forests and caves of Irian Jaya.

In my study alongside a framed print of an original thylacine painting by Rod Scott, commissioned by Australian Geographic (Dr Karl Shuker)