Col Bailey's Tiger Tales

Thylacine's Hunting Habits | World War One Tiger Memories | Tale of a Bushman

1945 Tiger Hunt |1980s Parliamentary Debate on the Tiger

Tiger Sightings in Victoria
I HAVE taken this story from a recent report in the "Herald Sun" (Victoria) newspaper concerning Thylacine sightings in country Victoria which I feel would be of interest to our readers. I personally cannot believe that there is any likelihood of live Thylacines being present on mainland Australia, but apparently there are some people who believe otherwise. The article, entitled "Tiger sightings grow", tells of recent sightings in the Warnambool-Hamilton area of Victoria and, while there are many sceptics, it seems that there are also reputable and reliable citizens who are willing to "come out" and testify to their quite incredible claims. Hamilton livestock transporter Les Wrangler, 79, and his mate Ron Grimson, 58, remain adamant that they both sighted a tiger at a lonely locality 35 kilometres south of Hamilton last month. It appeared as they were driving livestock along Stonefield Lane, a five kilometre stretch of isolated road. The animal jumped out in front of the truck, ran across the road and cleared a fence before moving for cover in amongst grazing sheep and cattle. Both men agreed that the animal resembled a large mangy fox, was as tall as a greyhound, but twice as thick, had a large tapered snout, a thick tapering tail, and its legs leaned slightly inwards. Stripes on its body appeared to be about five centimetres wide, and of a yellow orange colour on a dark base. It did not appear to spook the livestock as it stood on the side for a time, allowing both men a clear view of it. South Grampians chief commissioner Richard Walter states that he had no reason to doubt Mr Wrangler, describing him as a well known and level headed person. He went on to say that a number of people around the shire (council area) swear that they have sighted the creature. According to resident Ron Grimson, there has to be more than one because a woman reported sighting a tiger the same week, some 30 miles distant. Mr Grimson strongly emphasised, "Don't say IF we sighted it...it was there all right." Mr Wrangler is firm in his belief that the local terrain, with its many caves and hiding places, is ideal country for supporting a colony of tigers. He surmises that Tasmanian tigers could have crossed over when the land bridge existed around 10,000 years ago, and roamed throughout the continent. Mr Wrangler let his imagination run wild when he further stated that, "Some galah could have brought them over from Tasmania." A Hamilton stock agent, Graeme Lanyon, claims that he was a Tasmanian tiger several days after Mr Wrangler's sighting, at Dunkfield, 40 kilometres closer to Melbourne, while Penhurst grazier Rupert Rentsch believes that the tiger is responsible for killing one of his sheep after discovering the animal in a paddock with its rear leg eaten down to the bone, but with no other tooth marks. Locals are lobbying the State Government to post a one million dollar reward for the capture of the tiger. They reason that if the Minister for Tourism, Steve Crabb, offered $250,000 to find the "Mahogany Ship", a Spanish galleon believed to have been beached in sandhills along the coast near to Warnambool, then the tiger, a "Living Wonder" is worth four times as much. The article goes on to discuss another mystery animal frequenting the south eastern area of Victoria, the legendary Grampians Puma, or black panther. The origins of this particular chronicle began at the conclusion of World War II, when American troops stationed in the area were ordered to destroy their mascots, several young mountain lions, before shipping out. Local legend has it that they released the cubs in the Grampian Ranges, where they bred up, and descendants have survived to the present day. Recently a Dunkfield man reported seeing a "Pitch black puma," killing one of his chickens. By the time he got his shotgun the animal had vanished. A local farmer, Terry Black, called the puma a menace, and following constant attacks on his livestock, threatened to shoot it on sight. Yet another Dunkfield resident reports that while driving his 4WD around his paddocks, he saw and gave chase to a "Large black, cat-like animal," some 60 metres away. He eventually lost the animal after reaching speeds of 80 kilometres per hour for over one kilometre, during which he alleges he was only just keeping pace. His brother-in-law, Stan Clutterbuck of Mirrinattwa, located at the foot of the Grampian Ranges, claims that he has encountered three different big cats over the years. One resembled a Tasmanian tiger, another a lion and the other a puma. The standing offer of American TV network, C.C.N. chief Ted Turner, of $100,000 for authentic proof that the Tasmanian tiger still exists, still remains unclaimed, the offer having been made over ten years ago. yet, over the years reported sightings of strange animals continue to surface, both in Tasmanian and on mainland Australia. It makes one wonder!

Tiger Sightings in Victoria

I HAVE taken this story from a recent report in the "Herald Sun" (Victoria) newspaper concerning Thylacine sightings in country Victoria which I feel would be of interest to our readers.

I personally cannot believe that there is any likelihood of live Thylacines being present on mainland Australia, but apparently there are some people who believe otherwise.

The article, entitled "Tiger sightings grow", tells of recent sightings in the Warnambool-Hamilton area of Victoria and, while there are many sceptics, it seems that there are also reputable and reliable citizens who are willing to "come out" and testify to their quite incredible claims.

Hamilton livestock transporter Les Wrangler, 79, and his mate Ron Grimson, 58, remain adamant that they both sighted a tiger at a lonely locality 35 kilometres south of Hamilton last month. It appeared as they were driving livestock along Stonefield Lane, a five kilometre stretch of isolated road. The animal jumped out in front of the truck, ran across the road and cleared a fence before moving for cover in amongst grazing sheep and cattle.

Both men agreed that the animal resembled a large mangy fox, was as tall as a greyhound, but twice as thick, had a large tapered snout, a thick tapering tail, and its legs leaned slightly inwards. Stripes on its body appeared to be about five centimetres wide, and of a yellow orange colour on a dark base.

It did not appear to spook the livestock as it stood on the side for a time, allowing both men a clear view of it.

South Grampians chief commissioner Richard Walter states that he had no reason to doubt Mr Wrangler, describing him as a well known and level headed person. He went on to say that a number of people around the shire (council area) swear that they have sighted the creature.

According to resident Ron Grimson, there has to be more than one because a woman reported sighting a tiger the same week, some 30 miles distant.

Mr Grimson strongly emphasised, "Don't say IF we sighted it...it was there all right." Mr Wrangler is firm in his belief that the local terrain, with its many caves and hiding places, is ideal country for supporting a colony of tigers. He surmises that Tasmanian tigers could have crossed over when the land bridge existed around 10,000 years ago, and roamed throughout the continent.

Mr Wrangler let his imagination run wild when he further stated that, "Some galah could have brought them over from Tasmania."

A Hamilton stock agent, Graeme Lanyon, claims that he was a Tasmanian tiger several days after Mr Wrangler's sighting, at Dunkfield, 40 kilometres closer to Melbourne, while Penhurst grazier Rupert Rentsch believes that the tiger is responsible for killing one of his sheep after discovering the animal in a paddock with its rear leg eaten down to the bone, but with no other tooth marks.

Locals are lobbying the State Government to post a one million dollar reward for the capture of the tiger. They reason that if the Minister for Tourism, Steve Crabb, offered $250,000 to find the "Mahogany Ship", a Spanish galleon believed to have been beached in sandhills along the coast near to Warnambool, then the tiger, a "Living Wonder" is worth four times as much.

The article goes on to discuss another mystery animal frequenting the south eastern area of Victoria, the legendary Grampians Puma, or black panther.

The origins of this particular chronicle began at the conclusion of World War II, when American troops stationed in the area were ordered to destroy their mascots, several young mountain lions, before shipping out. Local legend has it that they released the cubs in the Grampian Ranges, where they bred up, and descendants have survived to the present day.

Recently a Dunkfield man reported seeing a "Pitch black puma," killing one of his chickens. By the time he got his shotgun the animal had vanished.

A local farmer, Terry Black, called the puma a menace, and following constant attacks on his livestock, threatened to shoot it on sight.

Yet another Dunkfield resident reports that while driving his 4WD around his paddocks, he saw and gave chase to a "Large black, cat-like animal," some 60 metres away. He eventually lost the animal after reaching speeds of 80 kilometres per hour for over one kilometre, during which he alleges he was only just keeping pace.

His brother-in-law, Stan Clutterbuck of Mirrinattwa, located at the foot of the Grampian Ranges, claims that he has encountered three different big cats over the years. One resembled a Tasmanian tiger, another a lion and the other a puma.

The standing offer of American TV network, C.C.N. chief Ted Turner, of $100,000 for authentic proof that the Tasmanian tiger still exists, still remains unclaimed, the offer having been made over ten years ago.

yet, over the years reported sightings of strange animals continue to surface, both in Tasmanian and on mainland Australia.

It makes one wonder!

1903 Tiger Sightings
THE winter of 1903 was severe, with food thin on the ground for the animals of the forest. These were desperate times for the graziers of the low country along the Western Tiers, and there were hardships enough without the added burden of sheep stealers. Alf McInnes had already lost five valuable ewes and could ill afford to lose another. He knew that if he didn't get old Carbunckle soon, his losses would quickly escalate. Old Carbunckle, (so named by Alf's young son) was a seasoned, crafty old tiger who was well past his expiry date, and the time had come for drastic action. At daybreak one morning, after being confronted with the carnage of a nightly kill, Alf braced two of his best dogs, Donger, a class hunting hound, and Ginger, a setter-spaniel cross. They carefully traced the tiger's tracks, easily visible in the snow, at first only ankle deep, but as they climbed higher, the drifts reached knee deep, slowing their progress considerably. The one consolation was that the weather had calmed, the wind dropping and the skies clearing. Once the dogs picked up the tiger's scent, Alf knew that they were in business. As they got higher, the snowdrifts became deeper, and all three were fast becoming exhausted. Finally, Alf was forced to release the dogs as they turned sharp left up a boulder strewn gully. He was soon left behind as the dogs took off after their quarry, finally trapping him amongst large boulders. By the time Alf reached the scene it was on for young and old. Donger and Ginger were working cleverly as a team, trying to edge the tiger into a position from where they could finish him off. Old Carbunckle was screaming and lungeing with his fearsome jaws as both dogs were capable of winning the struggle, but he was also aware of the danger involved. "Come here boys! Heel" he yelled at the top of his voice. "I'll take care of him!" Alf could ill afford to lose either animal, both were invaluable workers in their own right. He raised the rifle in an attempt to get off a shot but the fear of hitting the dogs was too great. Desperate now to call the dogs off, he fired into the air in a frantic move to distract the tiger! To Alf's everlasting regret, the shot did the exact opposite, it distracted the dogs! Ginger, on hearing the shot, dropped his guard and looked towards his master. The desperate tiger quickly seized the initiative, lungeing at the startled dog and knocking it off its feet! "No Ginger! No!" Alf screamed, but it was too late. With the dog down, the crafty old Carbunckle swung and locked his fearsome jaws around the dog's head, fatally wounding the unfortunate animal. Donger, completely demoralised by his partner's demise, promptly withdrew from the fight and ran cowering at his master's feet. The cold morning air was blue with unprintable expletives as the angry grazier raised his Winchester, pumping round after round into the doomed tiger. It was with great remorse that Alf picked up the still, lifeless body of Ginger to begin the long walk home through the snow. He was determined to provide a decent burial for a much valued friend. It is well documented that, as a rule, dogs were fearful of tigers - but certainly not all? The Thylacine, despite his shy and retiring nature, was not an animal to be taken lightly. They would often fight to the death if cornered, and quite often, they won!

1903 Tiger Sightings

THE winter of 1903 was severe, with food thin on the ground for the animals of the forest. These were desperate times for the graziers of the low country along the Western Tiers, and there were hardships enough without the added burden of sheep stealers.

Alf McInnes had already lost five valuable ewes and could ill afford to lose another. He knew that if he didn't get old Carbunckle soon, his losses would quickly escalate. Old Carbunckle, (so named by Alf's young son) was a seasoned, crafty old tiger who was well past his expiry date, and the time had come for drastic action.

At daybreak one morning, after being confronted with the carnage of a nightly kill, Alf braced two of his best dogs, Donger, a class hunting hound, and Ginger, a setter-spaniel cross. They carefully traced the tiger's tracks, easily visible in the snow, at first only ankle deep, but as they climbed higher, the drifts reached knee deep, slowing their progress considerably.

The one consolation was that the weather had calmed, the wind dropping and the skies clearing. Once the dogs picked up the tiger's scent, Alf knew that they were in business. As they got higher, the snowdrifts became deeper, and all three were fast becoming exhausted.

Finally, Alf was forced to release the dogs as they turned sharp left up a boulder strewn gully. He was soon left behind as the dogs took off after their quarry, finally trapping him amongst large boulders. By the time Alf reached the scene it was on for young and old.

Donger and Ginger were working cleverly as a team, trying to edge the tiger into a position from where they could finish him off. Old Carbunckle was screaming and lungeing with his fearsome jaws as both dogs were capable of winning the struggle, but he was also aware of the danger involved.

"Come here boys! Heel" he yelled at the top of his voice. "I'll take care of him!"

Alf could ill afford to lose either animal, both were invaluable workers in their own right.

He raised the rifle in an attempt to get off a shot but the fear of hitting the dogs was too great. Desperate now to call the dogs off, he fired into the air in a frantic move to distract the tiger!

To Alf's everlasting regret, the shot did the exact opposite, it distracted the dogs! Ginger, on hearing the shot, dropped his guard and looked towards his master. The desperate tiger quickly seized the initiative, lungeing at the startled dog and knocking it off its feet!

"No Ginger! No!" Alf screamed, but it was too late.

With the dog down, the crafty old Carbunckle swung and locked his fearsome jaws around the dog's head, fatally wounding the unfortunate animal.

Donger, completely demoralised by his partner's demise, promptly withdrew from the fight and ran cowering at his master's feet.

The cold morning air was blue with unprintable expletives as the angry grazier raised his Winchester, pumping round after round into the doomed tiger.

It was with great remorse that Alf picked up the still, lifeless body of Ginger to begin the long walk home through the snow. He was determined to provide a decent burial for a much valued friend.

It is well documented that, as a rule, dogs were fearful of tigers - but certainly not all? The Thylacine, despite his shy and retiring nature, was not an animal to be taken lightly. They would often fight to the death if cornered, and quite often, they won!

Tyenna - Home of the Thylacine
EARLY this century, the present locality of Tyenna was a thriving township, recognised as the last outpost of civilisation before entering the vast tract of largely unknown and unexplored wilderness to the South-West. Pioneer families had pushed further up the valley, namely the Pitfields (Fitzgerald area), the Rolls (present day Maydena area), and the Rumneys, a few miles further south. But it was the Marriott family who first hacked their way through the thick blackwood forest lining the Tyenna Valley to take up a large selection at what was to become Tyenna in the late 1870s. Where, prior to this, all traffic into the southwest had journeyed via the Dawson Road on the top of the range, it now came by way of Glenora and National Park through Tyenna. The trail-blazers had been at work; men of the calibre of T.B. Moore, E.G. Innes, E.A. Marsden, R. Thirkell, R. Ewart, W.H. Twelvetrees and Eric Webster. Over the years they were ably assisted by many of the local bushmen; J.G. Timbs, Lewis, Chaplin, John McCallum, Robert Marriott sen., and various members of his family, notably his son Robert jun., and brothers Percy and Frank, to name a few. Thus, the long hard slog began at Tyenna for all entering the Florentine Valley and the Gordon River country to the southwest. It took a special breed of men to be able to adapt to the atrocious conditions that nature flung at them in this vast wilderness. Of such men were the trappers, the forerunners to the true Tasmanian bushmen. One such man was Elias Churchill, who together with fellow trappers Mullins and Lovelock, hunted extensively throughout the Gordon River country. Born around 1892, Churchill spent most of his working life in the wild southwest. Over the years his vast knowledge and experience of the Thylacine made him something of an authority on the animal. Churchill knew about tigers so well, in fact, that he was often called upon to advise the Animals and Birds Protection Board in the years after 1936 as it took to the field in an effort to locate the elusive tiger. He claimed to have caught at least eight of the animals alive, all in snares. Many others snared in his trap lines were so badly injured that they had to be destroyed. On many occasions the trap lines were plundered by devils, these much despised scavengers being almost always shot on sight. Four of Churchill's tigers were taken in the Florentine Valley north of the Tiger Range, while the other four were taken at various locations; the Rasselas Valley, the Needles, Mount Bowes, and on the South Gordon track. It was a well known fact that as a trapper entered a wilderness area to make camp, any tigers resident in the vicinity would be miles away by nightfall. Occasionally, much to their folly, they returned to inspect the trap line, this often leading to their capture. Churchill told of once snaring a tiger by its foot and, hearing that the Hobart Zoo was after specimens, he decided to deliver the animal to them. After securely trussing up the beast to prevent it biting him, he slung it around his neck and carried it back to camp. Caging the tiger in a rough enclosure, its general well being began to cause him some concern. It was forever pacing up and down and completely ignored any food offered it. Eventually, after much patient coaching Elias was able to persuade the animal to eat freshly killed wallaby. Some time later, Churchill transported the tiger on the back of a pack horse through to Tyenna, en route to the Hobart Zoo. Local legend has it that a live tiger was once kept overnight in the kitchen of a certain home at Fitzgerald, and it is possible that this may have been the same tiger. Even when well into his 60s,Elias Churchill still yearned for the good old days, still considering himself fit and able enough to once again tackle the perils and hardships of the wilderness. Today, the descendants of these early pioneer bushmen live on throughout the Derwent Valley, and they can feel justly proud of the rich heritage left by these frontier pioneers of the past.

Tyenna - Home of the Thylacine

EARLY this century, the present locality of Tyenna was a thriving township, recognised as the last outpost of civilisation before entering the vast tract of largely unknown and unexplored wilderness to the South-West.

Pioneer families had pushed further up the valley, namely the Pitfields (Fitzgerald area), the Rolls (present day Maydena area), and the Rumneys, a few miles further south.

But it was the Marriott family who first hacked their way through the thick blackwood forest lining the Tyenna Valley to take up a large selection at what was to become Tyenna in the late 1870s.

Where, prior to this, all traffic into the southwest had journeyed via the Dawson Road on the top of the range, it now came by way of Glenora and National Park through Tyenna.

The trail-blazers had been at work; men of the calibre of T.B. Moore, E.G. Innes, E.A. Marsden, R. Thirkell, R. Ewart, W.H. Twelvetrees and Eric Webster.

Over the years they were ably assisted by many of the local bushmen; J.G. Timbs, Lewis, Chaplin, John McCallum, Robert Marriott sen., and various members of his family, notably his son Robert jun., and brothers Percy and Frank, to name a few. Thus, the long hard slog began at Tyenna for all entering the Florentine Valley and the Gordon River country to the southwest.

It took a special breed of men to be able to adapt to the atrocious conditions that nature flung at them in this vast wilderness.

Of such men were the trappers, the forerunners to the true Tasmanian bushmen. One such man was Elias Churchill, who together with fellow trappers Mullins and Lovelock, hunted extensively throughout the Gordon River country.

Born around 1892, Churchill spent most of his working life in the wild southwest. Over the years his vast knowledge and experience of the Thylacine made him something of an authority on the animal.

Churchill knew about tigers so well, in fact, that he was often called upon to advise the Animals and Birds Protection Board in the years after 1936 as it took to the field in an effort to locate the elusive tiger.

He claimed to have caught at least eight of the animals alive, all in snares. Many others snared in his trap lines were so badly injured that they had to be destroyed.

On many occasions the trap lines were plundered by devils, these much despised scavengers being almost always shot on sight.

Four of Churchill's tigers were taken in the Florentine Valley north of the Tiger Range, while the other four were taken at various locations; the Rasselas Valley, the Needles, Mount Bowes, and on the South Gordon track.

It was a well known fact that as a trapper entered a wilderness area to make camp, any tigers resident in the vicinity would be miles away by nightfall. Occasionally, much to their folly, they returned to inspect the trap line, this often leading to their capture.

Churchill told of once snaring a tiger by its foot and, hearing that the Hobart Zoo was after specimens, he decided to deliver the animal to them. After securely trussing up the beast to prevent it biting him, he slung it around his neck and carried it back to camp.

Caging the tiger in a rough enclosure, its general well being began to cause him some concern. It was forever pacing up and down and completely ignored any food offered it. Eventually, after much patient coaching Elias was able to persuade the animal to eat freshly killed wallaby. Some time later, Churchill transported the tiger on the back of a pack horse through to Tyenna, en route to the Hobart Zoo.

Local legend has it that a live tiger was once kept overnight in the kitchen of a certain home at Fitzgerald, and it is possible that this may have been the same tiger. Even when well into his 60s,Elias Churchill still yearned for the good old days, still considering himself fit and able enough to once again tackle the perils and hardships of the wilderness.

Today, the descendants of these early pioneer bushmen live on throughout the Derwent Valley, and they can feel justly proud of the rich heritage left by these frontier pioneers of the past.

Thylacine's Hunting Habits | World War One Tiger Memories | Tale of a Bushman

1945 Tiger Hunt |1980s Parliamentary Debate on the Tiger