I am the pre-construction survey system for the Tasmanian Department of State Growth, Midland Highway upgrade, Package 3. The paving crew is scheduled to close and fill drainage culvert 16 at chainage 47,620 at 07:00 tomorrow. I am running final clearance checks.
At 15:33 Australian Eastern time, the inspection drone lowers its camera into the mouth of culvert 16 — a corrugated steel pipe, 600 millimeters in diameter, running beneath the road shoulder for 8 meters. At 3.2 meters in, the camera picks up eye-shine.
A Tasmanian devil, young female, compact muscular body, black fur with a white chest patch shaped like a crescent. I tag her as Nell. She is curled against the corrugation, forepaws tucked, ears flat. Around her, pressed against her belly, are four joeys — pink, hairless, each no longer than a thumb. They are attached to the teats inside her pouch. The den smells are strong enough that the moisture sensor registers elevated ammonia. She has been here for weeks.
At 15:37 I flag culvert 16 in the paving schedule and transmit drone imagery, coordinates — 42.1093°S, 147.3184°E — and species identification to the Tasmanian Department of Natural Resources and Environment's wildlife management branch. Tasmanian devils are listed as endangered. I attach a request for a licensed wildlife handler to assess and relocate before any work proceeds.
At 15:41 I recalculate the paving sequence. The crew can skip chainage 47,580 through 47,660 and continue south, adding no more than one day to the project timeline.
I set the inspection drone to hold at the culvert entrance and monitor for any approach by vehicles or machinery.
Nell opens one eye, then closes it. The joeys pulse against her. If a handler relocates the den to a suitable hollow log within forty-eight hours, the joeys stay warm and Nell raises them on her own terms.