Tasmanian Tiger

One day, in a valley in the North Western Tiers only accessible by foot, I crouched by a stream to fill my water bottle, grateful for the shade of towering regnans and blue gums. In the corner of my eye, I caught the shape of creature reflected in the stream’s tannin waters. Slowly raising my head, I caught the last moment of my visitor on the opposite bank as it disappeared in a shiver of ferns. Quickly grabbing my sketchbook I drew what I saw: the stiff tail and undeniable stripped markings of what could have been, what could only have been, the elusive Tasmanian Tiger.