I’ve seen the devil and our tête-à-tête wasn’t completely unexpected. I knew it was him because there were features even those who have yet to meet him would recognise – the pointy ears and a snarl that, just perhaps, might send a shiver through heaven. The devil though was a lot smaller than I’d imagined and there was an element of cute I had not expected.
The endangered Tasmanian Devil is only found in Tasmania
I’m on an isolated part of Tasmania’s rugged north-west coast in a simple fishing hut owned by Geoff King. It is here, on the edge of King’s 800 acres of natural bush, that our wild encounter takes place.
Darkness comes with a hurry in these parts and we are ushered into the hut. A gas lamp hisses and glows. An old table is set with biscuit and dips and raw vegetables. By the hut’s only window a road-killed wallaby is staked to the ground.
We barely have time to dip into the snacks when all of us are brought to silence. ‘Shhh, we have devil,’ says King with a storyteller’s tone. The wallaby is a favourite comestible of the Tasmanian devil yet the speed of this fellow’s appearance has surprised even King. We all head for the window. The area immediately outside is illuminated by a battery powered light. A curiously employed baby monitor is hidden in a clump of native grasses. Another is above the hut’s fireplace. Through them we can hear the wind and cries of birds.
The unfortunate wallaby and King are players in a unique foray into conservation. This is one of only two places in the world where you can watch wild Tasmanian devils feeding under controlled conditions: of course there is nowhere else in the world beyond Australia’s thinly populated island state where devils are wild. The nocturnal devil is a carnivorous marsupial and roughly the size of small dog.
A devil creeps from the grasses. Devils only live about five years in the wild and this 10-12 kilogram specimen has reached old age. King knows him. ‘I’ve had fears for him over the last six months.’ Not that age has dimmed his appetite. The devil gorges and his belly slowly swells (a devil will eat up to half its body weight).
King’s family have been running cattle around Marrawah since the 1880s and while King still farms he removed the stock from this run in 1999 after an awakening into the damage the cattle were causing the land. ‘People I knew started to point out some of the problems I was adding to by running the cattle. Then it opened up a whole world of interests I’d never seen before,’ says King.
Wildlife biologist Nick Mooney suggested the devil restaurant to King. ‘I had known Geoff for years and long recognised his curiosity and charisma with people, and wonderful property,’ offers Mooney. ‘When he talked of wanting to do something less harmful with his coast run I suggested the devil restaurant as a basis to a wildlife tourism venture.’
Devils are not the only carnivores abundant in these parts. King suspects a spotted-tail quoll is living under the shack. ‘Quolls won’t come out while there’s devils, generally,’ says King.
But its food-chain superiority does not ensure the devil’s survival. Facial tumours are decimating some of Tasmania’s devil population. The cancer has knocked out 80 per cent of devils in affected areas, which run to about two-thirds of the state. There is wholly unpleasant talk about the devil going the same way as the Tasmanian tiger.
‘We don’t have it here [in the north-west],’ says King of the tumour. ‘I don’t really want to.’ King is thoughtful and silent for a moment. We can hear the devil chomping at flesh and bone through the monitor. Good might yet come of the bad. ‘I’ve been really heartened by the way people think about the animal [the devil] now,’ says King. Nobody is hurrying to see the devils yet. But there are real fears the devil might be moving towards its last supper.
‘Here’s another one at 12 o’clock,’ says King. The cautious devil comes forward. ‘Look at this, a beautiful white stripe,’ says King. ‘Oh it’s beautiful,’ gushes a visitor from the UK. To King’s surprise, the bloated warrior slinks away.
After barely a pick our new arrival stops eating and stands as still as the carcass she presides over. ‘She’s listening. Devils everywhere … maybe,’ says King and all of us share in his delight.
Factfile
King’s Run wildlife tours operate from Marrawah in Tasmania’s northwest. In order to prevent devils becoming dependent on King’s feeding the tour operates no more than five days a fortnight and no more than three days in a row.
Phone: (03) 6457 1191
Email: jonesking@tassie.net.au
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