Our guide approached us, despair writ large upon his face. He had been informed that the path to Cradle Mountain had been attacked by weather. Snow, ice, rain, mist, lakes of blood and plagues of locusts had been predicted for the Cradle Mountain region. The CoRS scattered in all directions seeking warmer clothing. Since there was only one store in Sheffield that sold such attire they all recoalesced pretty quickly. I joined the mad rush for warming attire. Only my companion stood proudly aloof. She did not panic, she did not falter. With a steady hand she produced her phone and searched through half a dozen weather prediction websites until she found one that pleased her. She then waved this in front of our guide’s face and in soothing tones assured him all would be well.
Strangely all was. At least for a given definition of “well”. Our minibus failed to slide off the ice slicked roads, the threatened blizzard and sleet didn’t eventuate and we arrived at Cradle Mountain chilly but unscathed. Or at least I presume we did. The prevailing mist meant that sight of the actual mountain was somewhat problematic.
At first we didn’t care as we had closer and more aggressive fish to fry. We visited a sanctuary for Tasmanian devils. Since they were a comprehensive sanctuary they also bred quolls, as you do. This is an attempt to defeat the face cancer which is threatening to wipe Tasmanian devils from the face of the earth thus fulfilling the fondly held dreams of nineteenth century farmers.
At the sanctuary fresh, cancer free devils are bred and kept. They aren’t released because there’s no point releasing them if they’re just going to catch cancer too. However researchers at the University of Tasmania are confident they’re only a couple of years away from a vaccine at which point a critical mass of devils will be inoculated and released in a black furred tide. I’m sure this won’t have any unforeseen side effects.
The sanctuary does release the quolls it breeds because nobody cares if quolls die.
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