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Bird On The Wire
an online column by Carmel Bird
No. 11
14 October 1998Previous columns
Keep Off The Grass
This is a Tasmanian story.
One of the most important industries
in Tasmania is the tourist industry. Some
years ago Australia had an airline pilots'
strike, and because Tasmania is an island, its
tourist industry went into decline. Recently a lot
of the regular flights from the mainland of Australia to
Tasmania were cut. So Tasmanians started
thinking about some dramatic ways to
attract the attention of visitors. What
more fascinating lure than that of an extinct
animal? How about the Tasmanian tiger?
I'm in the local grog shop to get some stubbies of
Cascade Premium Lager, the one with the
Tasmanian tiger's picture on the label.
The stubbies are known as tigers.
The tiger itself is known as an extinct
animal, having been hunted out of existence. The last certified sighting of a
tiger was in 1936 in the Hobart zoo where the
animal died in its cage. Some people devote
their lives to the search for the tiger, strong in the belief that the animal is not
really extinct, just hiding.
The wall of the grog shop
is a brightly lit giant refrigerator
with glass doors behind which gleam
and beckon hundreds of bottles -- clear,
amber, blue, green -- with seductive labels.
The tigers -- green bottle,
red and sandy label, are on the top shelf,
out of my reach. So I'm standing
there looking up at them,
thinking about asking for help.
'Choices, choices,' says a man beside me with his trolley full of groceries and wine.
'I know what I want, but I can't reach it.'
'What is it?'
'Cascade. Tigers.'
'There you go,'
and he puts a six-pack in my trolley, 'anything else?'
'No thanks, just the tigers.' Then he says,
'Do you know they're offering a million dollars in Tassie if you can
find a live tiger?' I hadn't heard, but I might have guessed.
'Really?'
'Yeah. I reckon they ought to offer a million dollars
if you can find anything alive in Tassie.'
Interesting point. People are always quick with a Tasmanian joke.
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I went home and watched the television news, and there I learned that,
as part of a travelling exhibition
about the extinct animal, the
Tasmanian government had indeed offered a
million dollars for a tiger. Long
ago, the bounty was much, much lower. But
no sooner had they thought up the
million dollar idea, than they reconsidered,
and withdrew the offer because
the idea of hundreds of search parties
tracking through the forests would
do too much harm to the bush
itself. You'd end up with not only an extinct
tiger, but a whole lot of violated virgin
land and some new things to
put on the endangered and extinct lists.
And there you have it - the paradox of tourism. If you want to
sell your scenery, soon you won't have
any scenery to sell. Tricky. Tasmania
is a beautiful place, an island
of breath-taking mountains, rivers, forests
and beaches, an island of
sweetness -- fruits, wines, cheeses, fishes, meats,
bread and honey and jam. Lager. Rare
plants and trees and animals and birds.
Extinct species too. But if you let tourists come in the numbers necessary
to make tourism worth your while, you
turn your paradise into wasteland.
The search for the
tiger was a brilliant idea, and maybe they would
have done well to sacrifice the bush
in the interests of fame and even,
perhaps, fortune. Or maybe there really is
a tiger, and they know it, and
they were unable to put up the money. Well, so be
it. The only place you will
find a Tasmanian tiger is on the label
of a bottle from the oldest
brewery in Australia. Not such a bad thing, really.
HOMECopyright © Carmel Bird 1998. All rights reserved.