Devils in Danger, page 10
I shook my head crossly. ‘Yes, Missy, Tasmanian devils are that cute. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.’ I took a breath. ‘But you know what? It’s not about being cute. All native animals deserve to be safe, whether they’re cute or not.’
Missy hung her head. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Just … I … We kind of imagined they’d be scarier.’
‘Yeah, their jaws have the strength of a tiger!’ said Mario.
I sighed.
‘Relative to their size, they do have jaws as strong as a tiger, Mario,’ I corrected. ‘But devils are not that big. And they’re not exactly out to get you. Didn’t you see in the video how shy they were?’
The four of us stood in a circle, looking at each other for a moment, no-one sure what to say, until …
‘I didn’t really see a devil!’ Mario declared. ‘Not on Old Forcett Road. Not anywhere.’ He dropped his head to stare at his shoes, while Missy laughed her nervous little laugh. ‘I shouldn’t have sent those notes,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m sorry.’
Mario wrote the notes? I glared at him. A silly Grade Three boy might have got Fern sent away just when she needed us most? I clenched my fists but couldn’t speak.
‘We’re sorry, Killarney,’ offered Missy. ‘How can we make it up to you?’
I took a breath. ‘Well …’ I glanced over to where Mr Snibbler stood with Grannie Annie, helping himself to a cup of coffee. Apart from Mr Tratt, who was afraid of everything including his shadow, he was the only anti-devil person left on my list.
‘I could do with some moral support,’ I suggested.
Dad raised his eyebrows as we passed the supper table.
‘Delicious,’ he said, holding up a slice of chocolate cake. ‘Third piece!’ he mouthed.
But I didn’t smile. My heart was thumping way too hard. I hardly acknowledged Missy encouraging Katie and Urasha to join us, although I was glad they did.
‘Hi,’ I said to Grannie Annie and Mr Snibbler.
Grannie Annie was wearing a colourful vegetable-patterned scarf and holding a cup of steaming tea. ‘Well done, Killarney. That was quite a show!’ she said.
I turned to Mr Snibbler, my stomach clenching and my knees trembling. Then I pulled my shoulders back. What was the worst thing he could do? ‘Um …’ I began.
‘I made it up! I never saw a devil!’ burst out Mario before I could say anything.
Mr Snibbler frowned. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Katie opened her mouth, but then closed it again. ‘What about Stripes?’ she squeaked. ‘Did you make that up too?’ She let out a small sob. ‘That’s so mean!’ she cried, before rushing off with Urasha trailing behind.
‘What’s all this about?’ Mr Snibbler barked when they’d gone, his face darkening.
I quickly explained how Mario had been spreading rumours about devils killing pets and that he had just admitted he’d never even seen a devil in Dodges.
Which made Mr Snibbler laugh.
I shot a look at Missy. What?
‘A dead cat?’ he repeated, brushing cake crumbs from his moustache. ‘Well, well. Now, that’s just made my day. Can’t stand those rotten felines, putting dirty paw prints on my limousine. Ha! To think I was so reluctant at first. Well, not anymore. The devils are welcome, if that’s the outcome we get.’
I didn’t correct him and say Mario was making up stories. My brain couldn’t find the words.
‘Now, tell me, young lady,’ he said, his watery grey eyes focused on me. ‘That video of yours. Can you really see all that from the glass inside your house?’
I squared my shoulders. ‘Oh yes,’ I confirmed. ‘You should come and see for yourself.’
‘And the devils don’t give a hoot?’ asked Mr Snibbler in disbelief.
‘Nope. If you’re quiet, they won’t even know you’re there.’
Mr Snibbler took a thoughtful sip of his coffee before screwing up his face and staring accusingly into the cup. ‘Eugh. Can’t stand this instant coffee. Whoever invented such muck?’ He retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket to dab drops of sweat from his brow. ‘You know what?’ he added once he was done. ‘I might just take you up on that. Goodness knows my moustache needs a trim.’
And that was that. My pro-devil list was complete.
Fern and her babies were safe.
Or so I thought.
Chapter 19
Bella and Benjamin were seven months old by the start of Term Four. They’d become more confident exploring outside the den and more vocal – barking and snapping as they chased each other around and around the garden. Benjamin would often flop belly-down in the long fountains of grass under the trampoline, panting with exhaustion until Bella lay next to him, and they’d both have a snooze. Even now they were older and growing stronger by the day, their favourite game was still piggybacking on Fern. They’d jump on her back as she ran about the yard, their legs splayed out like they were parachuting. They’d cling on precariously with one paw or another, or even with their teeth, Benjamin always stealing the prime position on Fern’s lower back, while poor Bella was left to grip on her mother’s neck or side, often slipping off and getting dragged along.
Another thing they loved was climbing – the fence, clothesline, anything they could find! Not that they got very far. They’d always tumble to the ground. Then they’d roll onto their backs before pouncing onto all fours to try scrabbling up again. Sometimes they’d see me watching and run towards me, as if hoping I’d join their play. But April warned that the devil’s babies weren’t puppies and shouldn’t get too comfortable around me. ‘One day,’ she said, ‘Fern’s young will need to survive in the wild. Becoming too tame won’t help their chance of survival.’
I spent every spare minute writing everything down in my journal. Every squawk. Every tumble. I added more research and recorded every new tooth, every new game, every sound.
One day, I was taking notes in my journal, keeping my distance as Fern lay in her favourite sunny spot. Her coat shone like black diamonds. Her tummy rose and fell, while her red thin-skinned ears flickered gently in the breeze. She was looking a little thin, maybe from entertaining and feeding her two raucous joeys, but thanks to everything we’d done, Fern’s young were doing super well.
My heart swelled with pride.
I crouched down, smiling as Fern’s eyes fluttered open and her short tail flipped away a fly. I smiled even more when she raised her head, her black nose warily sniffing the air. But then I froze. Was it my imagination or was something wrong with her mouth? Had she bumped into something and knocked the skin? Or maybe she’d had a good meal and not cleaned the flesh away from her lips?
I quickly scanned through my journal. Was there anything in my research about devils leaving food around their mouths after feeding? Why hadn’t I noticed it before? I scanned through my sketches of the different stages of the joeys’ growth, and the notes I’d scribbled about the carcasses Fern brought home for them, but I couldn’t see any mention of food stuck to their mouths. I ran inside and switched on our laptop, then searched for strange sores on Tassie devil’s lips.
‘Oh no!’ I cried when I’d finished reading. ‘Mum, quick! We have to call April. NOW!’
It didn’t take April long to trap Fern and the joeys.
‘Goodness, haven’t they grown?’ she remarked as she weighed the joeys and took quick blood samples from them both. ‘Healthy little critters too.’
Bella and Benjamin wriggled and squirmed as she held them, but lay still again when April returned them to the hessian sack. ‘Fabulous, Killarney, just fabulous. Two thriving playful devils, ready to tackle the world.’
I watched, hardly breathing, as she gently pulled Fern from the sack. Her face grew serious as she adjusted her latex gloves and ran her finger along Fern’s jaws and lips and teeth. It was worse than I thought. The whole inside of Fern’s mouth and part of her nose were covered in angry red sores.
I dug my fingernails into my palms and blinked away tears as April took a swab for the lab. She carefully dabbed a cotton bud inside Fern’s mouth before placing it back inside its plastic case. I had so many questions, but understood April needed to concentrate. So I waited. Watching. Hoping. Surely Fern would be all right?
By the time April released Fern with her joeys, I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. ‘Shouldn’t you take her to a vet?’ I asked.
April’s sharp green eyes clouded. ‘I’m afraid a vet can’t help this.’
My lips trembled as Fern’s tail disappeared into the darkness under the house. So I was right? I’d found a page on the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program site that described a terrible disease, a rare form of cancer that was spread when devils bit each other. The disease, called devil facial tumour disease or DFTD for short, started with little lumps or lesions around the devils’ mouths, causing swelling and bleeding before growing into ugly tumours.
‘But you can fix her, right?’ I asked. ‘Give her something to make the tumours go away?’
April shook her head as she peeled off her gloves. ‘No, sadly. Once a devil shows signs of DFTD, they usually die in three to six months. It’s devastating.’ She glanced under the house, towards Fern’s den. ‘We have developed a vaccine, but unfortunately it’s not a hundred per cent effective. Vaccinated devils still get sick.’ Her face softened. ‘I’m sorry, Killarney. I wish I had better news. We’ve tried all sorts of different chemicals to shrink the tumours but, so far, none of them have worked.’
My gaze fell to April’s muddy boots. I couldn’t trust myself to speak.
‘You know me,’ she continued, ‘I’m desperate to save our devils.’ She hesitated and I knew what she was thinking. Even if they did find a cure for DFTD, it would be too late for beautiful Fern.
We were silent for a moment before April began packing away the hessian sack and her box of equipment. ‘Fern’s done an amazing job,’ she assured me. ‘She’s raising her babies with everything she’s got. Perhaps if we’re lucky, they’ll be the ones we can help.’ I lent her a hand to pick up the tube trap and carry it back to her ute. ‘And Killarney?’
I hadn’t been able to meet her eyes, mine were so welled with tears.
‘Chin up, hey? One day there will be a cure, hopefully one day soon.’
Once I’d said goodbye to April, I wrote every last detail about DFTD in my journal. But it didn’t make it any easier. My heart ached. No matter what we did, our precious Dodges devil, who we’d tried so hard to protect, faced a slow and painful death.
Chapter 20
‘Killarney?’ called Dad a few days later. ‘Are you in there?’
I was lying on my bed after school, my soft toys spread out around me. Shelley the turtle from Nanna. The felt echidna I’d made with Mum from my birthday craft kit. The soft grey bilby Missy gave me for Christmas last year. Rearranging them and remembering their stories usually cheered me up, but not today. Fern was going to die and there was nothing anyone could do.
‘It’s for you,’ said Dad, perching on my bed and waving an envelope at me. ‘Want to open it?’
I sat up with a start. Another letter? Hopefully Mario wasn’t still mucking around?
I shook my head. I couldn’t bear any more angry words.
‘Here, let me,’ said Dad, tearing open the envelope, revealing a voucher of stiff black card. He handed it over.
Dining with Devils
Spend a magical evening in our secret location where you’ll encounter Tasmanian devils at their finest. Watch these incredible creatures devour their evening meal while you eat yours.
‘It’s from April,’ Dad said, reading the small note attached. ‘To cheer you up, apparently.’
The tour was in a special reserve in Bicheno where the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program had set up one of its insurance populations. I’d read about them on their website. Scientists had squirrelled away some healthy devils in zoos and sanctuaries all around Australia, for when a cure was finally discovered.
We drove down to Bicheno a few days later. A mini bus with the Dining with Devils emblem on the side was waiting near a takeaway advertising Bicheno’s best fish and chips. Not that we had time to find out. The tour was about to leave.
My knees trembled as Mum, Dad and I climbed aboard. Ten other passengers were already seated, but I was the only kid. I wished Noah or Missy had come.
‘How far do you think we’d have to walk?’ Noah had said when I showed him the voucher.
‘Watch devils devour their evening meal?’ cried Missy. ‘You know I love Fern and everything, but you’re kidding, right?’
I quickly slid in next to Dad while Mum took a seat beside a man with a Florida T-shirt, and we’d hardly buckled up when the driver pulled away from the curb. His voice crackled over the speaker system. ‘Hello, hello,’ he said. ‘Welcome aboard, everybody. My name is Leon and I’ll be your guide for the night. Hope you’re all excited!’
The couple behind me giggled nervously, while I hunkered down in my seat.
Leon spoke as he drove. ‘Now, as you know, we’re taking you to a secret location, a biosecure facility, home to about twenty healthy devils. We don’t want anyone letting them out or accidentally entering and causing damage, that sort of thing, so it’s vital we keep it a secret.’
He slowed to make a right-hand turn before stopping to unlock a padlocked gate. The bumpy dirt road beyond was flanked with high grass, and Leon had to slow again to allow a small grey wallaby to hop lazily in front of the bus. ‘As you can see, folks, the animals around here are pretty relaxed.’ He continued driving. ‘But if you look to your left and right in a sec, you’ll see a new initiative we’ve been trialling to discourage wildlife from crossing the road.’
I leant forwards, pressing my nose against my window. Plastic green posts, about as high as my belly button, stood about twenty-five metres apart along the side of the road. Each post had a small plastic box, about the size of a mobile phone, attached to the top.
‘That there is our Night Owl alarm system,’ explained Leon. ‘The small monitor you see is triggered by vehicle headlights, which sets off a series of flashing yellow and blue lights, plus a high-pitched siren noise to deter native animals from entering the roadway. See how we’ve lost our pedestrians?’
He was right. No animals had crossed in front of us since we’d been passing the Night Owls.
‘Early trials indicate these things can be more than eighty per cent effective in reducing roadkill,’ said Leon, sending an appreciative murmuring around the bus. ‘Only trouble is, we need around forty units for each kilometre of road, at a hundred and sixty dollars each. That’s a total of six thousand, five hundred dollars per kilometre! A fairly substantial sum.’
‘Strewth!’ said Dad, raising his eyebrows at me. ‘That’s steep for a bit of plastic.’
Leon pulled the bus to a complete stop outside a low-slung wooden building, hardly noticeable in the dark. ‘Righto, folks,’ he said, turning around to face us. ‘Here we are! Grab your belongings and head into the hide. Help yourself to some local cheese and a glass of Peninsula wine, take a seat at the bar, get comfy and I’ll be with you in a sec …’ He paused, winking at me. ‘No wine for you, young tacker. There’s apple juice there as well.’
He hesitated, looking over everyone before adding, ‘I will ask if you could refrain from talking for the first five minutes or so, guys. Just till the critters settle into munching on their dinner. They can be a bit skittish to start.’
I squeezed Dad’s hand as we went into a long narrow room inside the wooden hide. It was quiet and still inside, especially since no-one was talking. I took a seat with Mum on one of the tall stools that lined the rustic timber bar, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. A set of red velvet curtains hung over the wall in front of us, like we were at the movies. I wasn’t expecting that.
‘This is exciting,’ Mum whispered close to my ear while Dad fetched our drinks. I sipped nervously on my apple juice when he returned, willing the show to start.
We didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, the red velvet curtain parted with an impressive swish, revealing a huge window that ran the length of the room. We were looking right into a patch of scrubby bushland, similar to what we’d just driven past. Directly behind the glass, at the same height as my face, was a flat platform among the grass. It was lit with bright floodlights, almost like it was a stage.
In the centre of the platform, a large wallaby carcass was tied securely to the ground. The devils would soon start feasting on that carcass, and from what April had told me, it could get kind of gory. I glanced at Mum, then Dad. Were their tummies squirming as much as mine? I knew devils had to eat but … the wallaby looked so sweet.
Dad must have understood because he laid a reassuring hand on my arm.
Everyone in the narrow room stilled as a large male devil with white scars zigzagging his back gambolled into the spotlight. I suddenly forgot my squeamish tummy, and stared. My heart thumped as he sniffed the air, his long whiskers twitching, before tentatively approaching the carcass. After another tense sniff, he pushed his nose into the fur and chomped down on the wallaby’s leg.
Crunch!
Someone along the bar gasped.
‘You okay, hon?’ whispered Mum, despite the five-minute rule.
I nodded impatiently. Of course I was all right. The devil was amazing!
I squinted across the platform to where another devil lingered in the shadows. I held my breath while it watched the first, as if deciding what to do. Then, when the bigger, scarred devil stopped eating to sniff the air, the second turned to leave. But it was too late. The first devil had spotted it. Charging straight at the newcomer with its mouth wide, the scarred devil squealed a blood-curdling cry, making the second devil scurry off into the long grass.
