Chapter 18

A Dream Sighting

I had only been home a matter of hours when a most intriguing phone call came through from a game hunter travelling the West Coast Road. Returning from the north-west early that morning, he had been travelling near Mount Arrowsmith, north of Derwent Bridge, when he almost ran down a large animal crossing the bitumen from east to west. Incredibly, it would have happened only hours before I drove along that very same stretch of highway on my way home from Strahan. His vivid description of the creature had me wanting to jump in the 4WD and head straight back, but I wisely decided to defer it for a few weeks. I was in dire need of a spell of R&R. We later met up in New Norfolk, and discussed the sighting over a coffee at the local café.

Bill was your average middle-aged game hunter and regularly travelled that section of road. He assured me he was familiar with all the Tasmanian bush animals. His hunting mates had once mentioned coming upon an animal like the one he claimed to have seen, but he only ever half-believed them — until now. If his account was correct, what he had seen that morning in the half-light before dawn on a lonely, undulating stretch of the West Coast Road was undoubtedly a living, breathing thylacine.

His detailed description of the animal was spot on. He was in no doubt as to what he had seen crossing that isolated section of road near Mount Arrowsmith, and after carefully listening to his testimony, neither was I. It was by far one of the best sighting reports I had ever received: a true gem, the sort of sighting that a thylacine researcher dreams of.

The important thing was that here was a man who didn’t want any carry-on made about it. All he demanded from me, and received, was strict confidentiality. A timber worker friend had recommended me and my discretion in dealing with such matters, so he decided to make contact. It was fortunate that I had arrived home when I did, otherwise I may well have missed his call. As he explained, he wanted to get it off his chest, and needed to discuss his sighting with someone who could be absolutely trusted with such matters.

To put it simply, I was sworn to secrecy, but this didn’t worry me in the least because I had offered exactly the same confidentiality pledge so many times before. I was well aware that there were certain thylacine researchers in Tasmania who would have loved to get their hands on this one. After a while in this game you get to know just who you can trust and share information with. The logical person was Eric Guiler, but that was no longer possible owing to his illness. The media were the last people I wanted to hear about Bill’s sighting, for so many times before they had sensationalised this kind of information to sell their product. This sort of press attracts all the wrong types to the scene, and in doing so puts the immediate welfare of the animal at extreme risk — assuming it is the genuine article — and let me reiterate, as far as I was concerned, this was most definitely a genuine sighting.

Bill told me he was driving at around 70 kilometres per hour through a light early morning mist in the half-light before dawn with his lights full on. There was little if any traffic along the West Coast Road at the time and he was driving carefully, keeping a look out as he always did for wildlife crossing the sealed road. Although an amateur game hunter, he emphasised that he hated running over animals on the road. He had just topped a rise and was descending around a sweeping bend when he noticed an animal about 100 metres ahead starting to cross the road from east to west. Estimating it would be well across by the time he arrived, he nevertheless began slowing down. However, at the last moment, the animal appeared to hear the vehicle and suddenly doubled back, causing him to brake heavily and swerve to the left. In doing so, he missed colliding with it by a whisker.

‘My lights were fair on it and I don’t know who got the bigger shock, the animal or me,’ Bill explained. ‘It was incredible that I didn’t clean it up. I stopped only a fraction from it, and for a while I was scared I’d hit the thing.

‘Although I have only ever seen photos of these animals, there was definitely no mistaking what it was. It appeared startled by the glare of my headlights and totally confused. I started opening the driver’s side door to get out and try and help and I must have spooked it, because once again it began making for the other side of the road in a slow, staggering, semi-hopping sort of motion. It appeared to be dragging a hind leg, but I’m sure I never hit it. It might have pulled a muscle pulling up short like it did. Maybe it was in shock? When I got out of the vehicle, it was so near I could have almost reached out and touched it. It never made any noise that I could hear, other than to give a loud, angry-sounding hiss as I opened the car door to approach it. I plainly heard that,’ Bill emphasised.

I asked him to describe the animal as best he could. At this stage of the interview, I had asked no leading questions. I was careful to let him tell me the full story before interrupting. The last thing I wanted to do was to prompt him. It is always a mistake to put words into the mouths of people describing a thylacine sighting because they unintentionally end up saying exactly what you want them to say.

‘It was a mid-brown colour, with shortish hair and it had this long hairless tail,’ Bill began. ‘It looked a bit like a medium-sized dog with stripes, and the stripes stood out. They seemed to be a dark brown colour, not black, but a dark sort of colour. A mate of mine has a boxer dog and this animal was a similar size to that, only this thing’s head was much larger and longer. It appeared to have shorter legs in comparison to its body. That’s about the best I can remember.’

‘Did you notice any odour when you got out of the car to approach it?’ I asked.

‘No…I can’t say that I did notice any smell,’ Bill replied, carefully pondering the question for several seconds before answering. ‘There was that strong diesel smell coming from the 4WD that probably eliminated any other smells in the immediate vicinity. The air was fresh and cool with little if any wind.’

‘Did you notice where the animal went?’ I asked. This was important to me, to establish in which direction it had headed.

‘Oh, it definitely moved to the west side of the road,’ he answered. ‘It appeared to be heading straight on down the valley. And I remember it slowing and deliberately looking back at me before it disappeared.’

‘Did you attempt to follow it?’

‘No, not actually follow it, but I did walk over to where it had left the road where it sloped down into the valley, but by that time it was out of sight.’

‘Did you notice any smell when you followed it?’ I asked.

‘No…’ Bill replied thoughtfully. ‘I don’t reckon I did.’

‘Did you have time to get an idea how many stripes it had?’

‘I’ve got no idea really. Other than to say that it had enough down its back to allow me to say without doubt that the animal definitely had these dark brown stripes.’

‘Do you think the earth along the side of the road was damp enough for the animal to have left any footprints?’ I asked hopefully.

Bill thought for a moment. ‘No…no…I don’t reckon it would have left footprints, because as I remember, the sides of the road there were fairly stony…rocky would be a better word.’

‘Did you notice any eye shine when you caught it in the headlights?’ I asked.

He again paused to give the question some serious thought. ‘Look, I can’t really be sure,’ he said at length. ‘I was more concerned at not hitting it when the 4WD began to slide on the wet road. When I first saw it, I was at least 100 yards away and coming upon it fast. I anticipated that on slowing down it would have been out of the way by the time I reached it, but when it doubled back, that’s when things got a bit sticky. Naturally I slowed right down as I applied the brakes, and this probably avoided a collision.’

‘What gave you the idea it was a Tasmanian tiger?’

‘My son brought home a circular from the National Parks and Wildlife a few years back after visiting one of the parks…Cradle Mountain, I think it was. It was a double-page pamphlet with a picture of a Tasmanian tiger and some information. It gave the impression that the tiger is extinct, but after what I’ve just seen, I can tell you that it’s definitely alive and kicking,’ Bill replied with conviction. ‘Now I’m a true believer.’

‘Welcome to the club,’ I replied, firmly shaking his hand.

I rated this report 9.5 out of 10; this was one tiger sighting that definitely warranted further action. The fact that it came from within one of the areas mentioned by old Bert some years previously added further weight to it. I afterwards carefully studied maps of the area, noting that Bill’s sighting tied in with my theory that tigers were using a corridor that ran from the two national parks, over the Cheyne Range, past Mount Rufus and to the south-west of the Franklin River, crossing the West Coast Road near The Beehive, and fording the Surprise River before moving down through the Loddon Plains and on into the Jane River country.