Tentatively Tasmanian

I see him scuttling alongside the walking path. Is it a rat, pygmy kangaroo or a mutant mouse… It disappears too quickly before I can whip my phone out and take a photo.

Each day I see ‘him.’ As a female myself, I don’t know why I automatically ascribe a male gender to any cute, unidentifiable animal that comes across my path, but there you go. Another topic to ponder on tomorrow’s walk.

He’s becoming more familiar to me, and I eventually do manage to inch my way close enough to not scare him and take a couple of blurry shots.

A quick google reveals him to be a Southern Brown Bandicoot.

What a word: Bandicoot.

After having a decent read through Wikipedia and other nature blogs, it turns out that the bandicoot was an endangered species a few years ago. The usual suspects: feral cats, foxes and land clearance with some parts of mainland Australia more concerned about their increasing absence than others.

On Tassie, however, they’re found all over the island, but a glance in the local paper – officially known as the Mercury but as it’s Murdoch owned it will never be purchased but only read if left in a coffee shop for me to grab and find actual words to read beyond the Harvey Norman adverts – says that the introduced species weeding group were thrilled to see a few when they were working in Cornelian Bay.

“Oooh, that’s on my walking route,” I thought to myself before hastily pushing the paper away when Craig arrived with a couple of coffees. Australian coffee. Hands down the best in the world. Reliably good. Really really good….

But back to bandicoots. Of course they’re mammals – we’re chock full of ‘em in Australia. They are somewhere between the size of a rat and a cat (catrat?) and can measure about 45cm long and weigh a bit over a kilogram. That’s definitely the guy I keep seeing.

Wikipedia does tell me that they’re lonely little fellas, preferring their own company as they snuffle around the bushes for insects, spiders, worms, ferns, plants and fungi. These timid omnivarians are supposed to be nocturnal but my guy has been active during the day. Maybe the traffic on the nearby highway has thrown his circadian rhythm out the window. It certainly has for me. Three weeks since arriving from France and I’m up until 1am and then again at 6am and wondering why the sun disappears here at 4pm.

The bandicoot has become my little look-out, the fella I look forward to seeing on each walk, as I power along the old railway track between Moonah and the Tasman bridge. He never disappoints me and gives me a brief glance every day before scuttling away.

Maybe it’s the way I’m dressed. Craig called me during one of my walks and said, “What on earth are you wearing?”

With my short hair and pin-sized head under a black beanie, I either looked homeless or like a recovering cancer victim. The men’s spray jacket from Harris Scarfes gave me shoulders I didn’t possess but it was warm and shielded the wind, albeit making me resemble a corrugated iron water tank. It’s 100% nylon and swishes when my arms move in an accompanying rhythm of the tictacs rattling in my bag and the sloosh of the water in my drinking bottle. I’m a one-woman band….

“Look buddy, everyone is dressed like this. The only thing I can’t protect from the wind is my teeth. Yes, my teeth. The breeze blows straight through them, giving me an ice-cream brain freeze. It’s all about warmth, not glamour!”

The bandicoot is now my personal animal totem as we have a lot in common. Not concerned with fancy outfits but dressed for camouflage. Big nose, rather rotund bodies and it has ‘coot’ in its name which hints at my age and state of mind. Cute little guy!