Carnivorous Nights_ On the Trail of the Tasmanian Tiger - Margaret Mittelbach [93]
We met a chipper woman wearing a crisp red-and-white-striped Oxford shirt, with short gray hair. Her name was Alison Green (no relation to Bob), and she had been the curator of invertebrates at the Tasmanian Museum for twenty-three years.
“What's your specialty?” we asked.
“Slaters.”
“Oh …” We weren't quite sure what those were.
“Native slaters, not the ones that are introduced.”
“Hmmm … how many species are there?”
“I think we're up to about sixty-odd species for Tasmania, about half of those have been described and named and the other half are still new and waiting to be described and named.”
“Where can you find them?”
“They occur in all sorts of territories—in rain forest, in eucalypt forests, on beaches, and in caves. We've got three species introduced from Europe which are in everybody's gardens.”
“What are those called?”
She supplied us with three obscure scientific names.
“Do you have a favorite?”
“Not really. I've got one which I named after my professor. It lives in the rain forest. It's quite an attractive little beast. It rolls up.”
We motioned for Alexis to come over. “Alexis, meet Alison, she's a slater expert.”
“That's amazing. Do you think we'll see any slaters today?”
“I certainly hope so.” She excused herself and said she would see us on the nature trail.
“Alexis, what are slaters?” we whispered.
“I have no fucking clue.”
Next we met a young man named Danny Soccol. He was about thirty, a recent graduate of the biology program at the University of Tasmania in Launceston.
Danny had special interests in botany and bush tucker, and he sometimes volunteered to collect invertebrates—spiders, worms—for scientific projects. He actually had a worm named after him, Diporochaete soccoli. “I was one of the people who helped with the research. I was digging them out all over Tassie, in rain forests, dry sclerophyll. But it's just a small native worm.” He laughed self-effacingly.
“Don't be embarrassed,” said Alexis. “We're jealous.”
The field naturalists were going exploring on the land surrounding their clubhouse, 150 acres of rain forest, wet and dry eucalypt forest, and open grassland. We followed them down a path of trees neatly labeled with signs. Alison pointed out a Eucalyptus regnans. We strained our necks looking up the gray-and-brown trunk and halfway up were hit with vertigo. Eucalyptus regnans—more commonly known as a swamp gum— is the largest species of tree in the Southern Hemisphere.
Danny and Jim stopped in front of another specimen, a green bushy shrub with long, leathery, bladelike leaves.
“This is a Tasmanian sugar bush,” Jim said.
“Is that an endemic?”
“Yes, it only grows here.”
He and Danny tore off a few leaves.
“If you chew them, they taste sweet. It's excellent bush tucker.”
We put the leaves in our mouths and gave them a chew. At first, they didn't taste like anything.
“You have to work on it a little bit. It takes a while for the sugar to come out.”
We continued chewing. After a moment, the leaves transmitted a slight tingling sensation.
“Mmmm,” Alexis said tentatively. The club members looked at us expectantly.
Slowly, we perceived a fiery wave breaking over the soft parts of our mouths. Our gums and cheeks began to burn. Our tongues went numb.
As the green wildfire engulfed our lips, we spit out the leaves and looked at the “sugar bush.” There had been a little label in front of the plant all the time. It said “Tasmanian mountain pepper.”
“It really has a nice bite,” Jim said, laughing.
“And it's very good on pepper steak,” Danny added.
We'd been punked! And by a bunch of botanizers. Who knew flower lovers engaged in hazing?
Danny stopped in front of another plant. We looked at it warily.
“Is this another type of bush tucker?”
“No, it's stinkwood