The Devils are Calling

We decided to come to Cradle Mountain now because of a break in the weather forecast.  Partly sunny skies would be welcomed and a great way to visit the area.

We arrived mid-afternoon and determined it would be too late to take a shuttle bus into the park.  Instead, we took the lovely King Billy hike near the park's entrance.  The hike was named after the King Billy Pines in the area, named after the Aboriginal tribal leader of the Oyster Bay people.

King Billy Pine Trek, Cradle Mountain 

King Billy Pine

I told the park ranger who helped us at the visitor center that I had one goal... to photograph a Tasmanian Devil for my great-nephew.  She suggested we visit Devils@Cradle, a sanctuary to revive the Devil populations both in Tasmania and on the Australia mainland.  She pulled a stuffed Devil off the shelf and told me, "If all else fails, you can come back and photograph him.  He was roadkill before he came here."

I only hoped that I would not have to resort to photographing roadkill for Bense.  The Devils@Cradle made that  dream come true.

We bought tickets to the evening feeding of the Devils.  The bloke at the desk told us to arrive early so that we could watch the Devils interact.  He was right... it was a splendid evening.  The sanctuary has several enclosures, each containing a half-dozen or more yearling Devil joeys.  We watched with absolute delight as they interacted together.

Tasmanian Devils are the largest surviving marsupial (the Thylacine or Tasmanian Tiger was the largest).  They stand about 12 inches high at the shoulder.  The largest Devils weight about 25 pounds.  Females deliver up to 30 babies each litter.  Because they only have four teats, however, only four of the babies survive.  They live in their mother's pouch for about four months before they begin venturing out and are weaned when they are about ten month old.

Devils are mostly scavengers, feasting on roadkill and weak animals.  Young devils can climb trees, and many survive on bird eggs for the first year.  Devils don't mind sharing their meal finds, however, they often fight each other during the process.  Europeans thought their growls and hisses in the bush were satanic and named them Devils.  The Aboriginal name for them is purinina.

The keepers dropped a piece of meat covered in hide into one enclosure.  We watched for over a half an hour as the Devils attacked their meal.  They would fight one another, grab a hunk, and run... only to be chased by a fellow Devil.  Two or three would run under their enclosure.  The roof literally bounced up and down with their wranglings, hisses, and growls.  Here is a very short video of two Devils fighting over their meal...

Many of the Devils posed for us.  They often yawn, exposing their 80-degree gape.  They yawn for many reasons... sometimes simply to intimidate others.

Devil Yawn

We found the Devils to be more entertaining than intimidating.  We learned that their ears become more red when they fight.  They often have ratty-looking tails because of their fighting.  Also, our guide told us that they store fat in their tails which pushes out the hair follicles.

Tasmanian Devil at Devils@Cradle

The Devils@Cradle Sanctuary is also home to two species of quoll, also endangered.  These smaller, carnivorous marsupials look more cat-like.  More elusive and solitary, I was only able to photograph them through their cages.

After the interpretive tour and feeding, we left the Sanctuary about 7:30 in the evening... well after dark.  The closest caravan park wanted $60 for their sites.  A nearby free campground was less than ten kilometers away, so we decided to drive to it.  It was our first time to drive after dusk.

A full moon was behind us as we drove.  We were amazed at how many "skippies" were along the roadside.  I admit that it was a white-knuckle ride for me... not because it was frightening but because I was afraid I would hit an animal.  Thankfully, none jumped out in front of us.  Of course, I was only going 35 kilometers per hour.

David was trying to navigate unknown dirt roads.  We turned up one... it was the wrong one.  I turned the van around in a somewhat wide spot in the road, trying not to bury its wheels in the mud.

We found the right road, but it, too, was wet with deep puddles of mud.  The sides of the road were so mucky that we knew we would sink up to the hubcaps if we ventured off the road.

The road had become even more narrow.  We got out and walked about a hundred yards by flashlight to see where it might lead us.  It looked hopeless.  I held the flashlight while David turned the rig around.  I almost laughed outloud as I realized that we never would have done this in Alaska... there are too many apex predators there to even consider it.  But here in Tasmania, the Devils are the worst to attack me.  It was too cold for spiders and snakes.

We found a semi-flat spot next to the road and parked there for the night.  The morning brought freezing temperatures and bright sunshine.  We strolled the road and took photos of the hoarfrost.  It was stunning.... cold, but stunning.

Hoarfrost at Cradle Mountain

We head into Cradle Mountain now to learn more about its mysteries, particularly now that we have one solved and a promise kept.  To my great-nephew, Bense... this one's for you, my love.

Tasmanian Devil