n the heavily forested Annamite Mountains straddling Vietnam and Laos, an
alien species was discovered this summer by wildlife biologists. It's a
rabbit. The animal is larger than the North American jackrabbit--closer in
size to the European hare--and sports a coat of brightly striped fur. It
is also just about as endagered as a species can get: restricted to a
geographic area smaller than Baja, Calif., that serves as a hunting
ground for hungry humans. One specimen was photographed alive by an
automatic camera set up in the jungle, but several others were discovered,
dead and gutted, in a Lak Xao village meat market.
By itself, this discovery is hardly going to change the course of history,
but the compelling thing about it is that this is the fourth large mammal
species discovered in the same region during the 1990s. The others are the
"spidlehorn bovid" or "saola" in 1992, the "barking deer" or "giant muntjac"
in 1994, and the "Vietnamese warty hog," also in 1994. Other surprising
discoveries of recent decades include the Megamouth shark, in 1976 in the
waters off Hawaii, the Chaocan Peccary, in 1975 in Paraguay, and the
Indonesian Tree Kangaroo in 1993. I am not making these names up.
It just goes to show that even here at the end of the 20th century, the
planet Earth is not completely explored. Forget the thousands or millions of
uncataloged species of tiny insects and tinier bacteria and protozoa--there
are still some rather large, rather obvious critters running (or
hopping) around unseen beneath our very noses.
Fantastic animals
So if large animals--even our fellow mammals--can remain undiscovered
right up to the Third Millennium, the next obvious question is: what other
fantastic animals might we still hope to find? We can do more than speculate
about this; most phenomena are well documented in rumor, myth, and innuendo
long before they're confirmed scientifically. In fact, there is a whole
field of study devoted to the investigation of strange animal sightings.
"Cryptozoology," as it's known, has a poor reputation in some circles,
especially where it hazes into studies of the paranormal, but it's helpful
to recall that at the start of this century, the Komodo dragon and mountain
gorilla were just legends, and the coelacanth and Megamouth shark were
thought to have been extinct since the time of the dinosaurs. And there
should be large-animal cryptozoology work for at least another few decades,
given the number of legendary animals we're still not sure about.
First and foremost among these are giant squids of the genus Archeteuthis.
Once known only as the Kraken of Norse legend, these creatures are
documented by juvenile corpses, adult tentacle fragments, and some truly
enormous sucker marks on the bodies of sperm whales, which are the squids'
enemies. Deep-dwelling Archeteuthis are sometimes thought to be a food
supply for the whales, but eyewitness accounts of squid-initiated brawling
suggest the predation may be mutual. The existence of these monsters is not
in doubt, but since they've never been photographed alive, the open question
is just exactly how big they really are. And since Archeteuthis are also
known to attack both humans and boats, the folks who find out may not always
come home to report it. Typical size estimates range to 30 meters or more,
with isolated but credible reports of up to 60 meters--larger than an
Olympic swimming pool. That's one mean mollusk!
On somewhat drier ground, the moors of England are home to a large predator
known as the Beast of Bodmin, which has been killing livestock for many
years. That a beast of some sort exists here is unquestionable; what remains
to be discovered is what sort of beast it is, whether it's a single animal or a
population, and whether it's indigenous or introduced. A puma or other large
cat is considered the likeliest candidate, or possibly a wolf, but for now
the enticing scent of mystery lingers in the air.
The Kraken and the Beast
If the Kraken and the Beast enjoy a near-100 percent chance of really existing, we
can estimate, perhaps, a 40-50 percent chance for the lesser-known Tasmanian tiger,
a marsupial predator named for its fierce disposition and brightly colored
stripes. Once native to islands all around Australia, the species--also
known as the Thylacine--was declared extinct in 1936, when its last member
perished in a Tasmanian zoo. But in Tasmania, mainland Australia, and
especially the jungled mountains of Indonesia, there are persistent reports
of a very nasty doglike or foxlike creature capable of standing and hopping
on its kangaroolike hind legs. No specimen has yet been captured, shot, or
photographed, but these reports could well indicate pockets of Thylacine--or
possibly some closely related species--still resident in the lands down
under.
Edging down into less certain territory, we have the Yeti of the Himalayas
and the Bigfoot or Sasquatch of North America. Could a larger-than-man-sized
primate really roam the northern forests of Canada and the United States. or the
mountain wastes of Nepal? In light of other cryptozoological surprises, it
does begin to seem plausible. Still, the lack of reliable evidence after
decades of determined searching puts my probability estimate at less than
20 percent. We'll see.
Even more speculative is the South American chupacabra, a small primate
reputed to be both fiercer and more intelligent than monkeys. By itself this
is credible enough, but since some legends describe the chupacabra as
wearing hats and even full suits of clothing, this may be more of a
leprechaun or goblin than an actual animal. However, the easy out for
cryptozoologists is to discover a new primate species in South America--any
primate species--and declare it to be the chupacabra of legend.
There's probably a solid 10 percent chance that this will happen sometime in the
next decade or two, assuming the entire rain forest isn't denuded before
then.
Will we find Nessie?
And what of everyone's favorite X-creature, the Loch Ness Monster? Alas, the
dozens of well-planned, well-equipped, well-financed hunting expeditions
have failed to turn up anything more solid than a few image enhancement
artifacts, like the animal shapes you see in clouds even when you know there's
no animal there. I'd put the odds of Nessie--and her dozens of fellow lake
monsters around the world--at less than 1 percent.
But don't take my word for it--in 1930 I'd probably have said the same
thing about the coelocanth.
Wil McCarthy is a rocket guidance engineer, robot designer, science fiction
author and occasional aquanaut. He has contributed to three interplanetary
spacecraft, five communication and weather satellites, a line of
landmine-clearing robots, and some other "really cool stuff" he can't tell
us about. His short fiction has graced the pages of Analog,
Asimov's, SF Age and other major markets, and his
novel-length works include Aggressor Six, the New York Times Notable
Bloom, and upcoming The Collapsium.
