With its googly eyes, lumpy forehead, and awkward almost-smile, the strange, taxidermied fox head at the antique market was funny enough to throw down 50 quid on.
When the buyer later sold it at auction, they were stunned to see it go for 1,000 times more than they'd paid for it.
That's because this was no fox. This extremely rare specimen was instead the head of an extinct species.
"I collect weird and wonderful fox heads – good, bad, and the ugly – to show the differing qualities of taxidermy over the years and by different taxidermists," James Cranfield, a natural-history curiosities dealer in the UK, told ScienceAlert.
So when this "19th-century fox head" listing turned up among Cranfield's daily auction alerts, its goofy charm initially caught his eye – until he took a closer look.
"When I clicked on it and it opened up to a bigger picture, it was like a bolt of lightning to my brain and eyes that it wasn't a fox," said Cranfield.
"I immediately thought, 'that looks like a thylacine'."
The thylacine (Thylacinus cynocephalus) is – or was – a carnivorous marsupial that resembles a large dog. Commonly known as the Tasmanian tiger due to the striped pattern along its back, the creature was once widespread across Australia and even as far north as New Guinea.
But by the time European settlers arrived, the thylacine was confined to the island of Tasmania. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, they were considered a pest to livestock and actively hunted, with the Tasmanian government even offering bounties on them.
By the time this decision was reversed and protections offered, it was too late. The last known individual thylacine died in a Tasmanian zoo on 7 September 1936.
Now, 90 years later almost to the day, one has turned up on the other side of the world.
Though it was masquerading as a fox, Cranfield saw through the disguise. The clearest clues were in the teeth: Foxes and other related animals have six upper incisors – the large teeth in the front, between the fang-like canines – but this specimen has eight. And so did the thylacine.
Unfortunately for Cranfield, another collector also suspected the creature's true identity. A frenzied bidding war followed, culminating in a final price tag of £62,600 (over US$85,000).
To make sure he hadn't just paid an eye-watering amount for a garden-variety fox, Cranfield subjected the head to X-ray and CT scans.
"The news could not have been better," Cranfield explained. "Not only is it a genuine thylacine head, the X-rays have revealed the most perfect, pristine skull within the mount.
"I'm very pleased that now that I haven't got egg on my face for spending [so much] on a fox head. I could have never shown my face in the community or online or anywhere," he laughed.
"I would have had to have become a hermit."
Experts agree with the assessment, and the specimen has now been officially added to the International Thylacine Specimen Database (ITSD).
"I have examined and analyzed the radiographs of the specimen, with particular attention to the skull and dentition," Stephen Sleightholme, Project Director of the ITSD, told ScienceAlert.
"The radiographic evidence provides clear diagnostic support for its identification as a thylacine."
The specimen is only the second known taxidermy-mounted head – the other is held in the private collection of Dr. Eric Guiler, a zoologist at the University of Tasmania who led multiple expeditions to find living, wild thylacines in the decades after the last captive individual died.
"The ITSD currently contains more than 800 known specimens, encompassing a remarkably diverse range of material, including skulls, skeletons, alcohol-preserved organs, taxidermy mounts, microscopy slides, skins, and alcohol-preserved pups and adults," said Sleightholme.
Despite its age and imperfect preservation, the specimen could teach us more about the shape of the animal's head, skull, and teeth, and if DNA samples can be taken, we could learn more about its genetics.
The teeth are the most promising and least intrusive place to take these samples, and Cranfield is already in contact with scientists in Australia to do just that.
"We could easily do this as we have been sampling thylacine teeth using a Dremel drill for some time," Brandon Menzies, a bioscientist at the University of Melbourne, told ScienceAlert.
"You just take about 100 milligrams of bone powder."
Menzies is part of the Thylacine Integrated Genetic Restoration Research (TIGRR) Lab, led by geneticist Andrew Pask. The team has been piecing together the thylacine's genome and studying its biology, with the ultimate goal of actually undoing its demise.
The thylacine is one of several species earmarked for de-extinction by the US bioscience company Colossal, along with other extinct icons like the woolly mammoth and the dodo. But whether it's possible – or ethical – is a matter of debate.
That's a lot of pressure hanging over this poor little head, but even if DNA samples are taken, they're not likely to be a major breakthrough for the de-extinction project. At most, Menzies says, it could help expand the known genetic diversity of the species.
One of the most intriguing questions that further analysis could answer is the history of the specimen itself. It appears to be well over a century old, so where has it been hiding?
"The fact that this specimen appears to have remained unrecognized and outside established scientific collections is itself significant," said Sleightholme.
"In the case of an extinct species, every surviving specimen constitutes a finite and potentially irreplaceable source of biological information."
Where did it come from in the first place? Cranfield speculates that it may be someone's hunting trophy, possibly turned in as part of the Tasmanian government's bounty program.
"There were roughly 2,186 specimens killed and presented during the bounty from 1888 to 1912," said Menzies.
"We don't know where they all went. Many remains were simply destroyed by the government after bounty payment."
How the head traveled across the world to the UK is another open question. It may have been sold as an antique, or brought over as part of someone's collection.
But there's another, even more intriguing possibility: The head may have been brought to the UK atop the shoulders of a living thylacine.
They were known to have been exported and exhibited in zoos internationally in the early 20th century, including in London. There's a chance, Cranfield says, that the head's original owner may have lived abroad for a time, and the mount was prepared locally after it died.
To find out, Cranfield hopes to have specialists analyze the wood in the shield.
"If we can test what that wood is and what the shield is made of, if it turns out that it's some species that's endemic to Australia, that will then go with my hypothesis that the mount was created in Australia, and at some point in its history it came over to the UK," Cranfield said.
"If it shows that the wood used to create the mount was English, that's then a different avenue that we go down and go okay, well it was prepared here."
Whether or not that might return a useful result, it's just one of many types of tests that could be performed on the head. Isotopic analysis, for instance, could confirm its age.
Cranfield is willing to give scientists access to the head to study it in different ways – as long as it's credible and non-destructive, of course.
But what about those goofy googly eyes? While he was initially torn on whether he should replace them with something more realistic, or fix the overstuffed forehead that gives it the wrong shape, Cranfield says he'd rather preserve the head as a curiosity.
"As somebody who is interested in historical taxidermy, my plans are not to do that much to it," he explained. "It's like trying to put makeup on a mummy. It's still going to be not looking great."
These pieces reflect the techniques, ideas, and understandings of their time – and that history is worth recording too.
"Although it looks strange, preservation and taxidermy do strange things to specimens, and the taxidermist would often make the heads and faces more fearsome or action-packed," Menzies explained.
And besides – how could you look at that face and tell it it's not good enough? Cranfield believes it has the right kind of awkward charm to attract some 'bad taxidermy' fans, joining the likes of Melbourne Museum's Sad Otter or the Lion of Gripsholm Castle.
"That doesn't look anything like a lion – but what would be the benefit of soaking that specimen down and remounting it? You would then be losing a sort of cultural artifact," Cranfield said.
"Those sorts of peculiar specimens become firm favorites of visitors to museums."
Related: Tasmanian Tiger 'Probably' Survived to 1980s or Even Later, Study Claims
As to which museum might be lucky enough to gain a new unofficial mascot, Cranfield says he's currently in talks with several institutions about potentially displaying it to the public.
Wherever the thylacine head ends up, this beautiful creature is finally getting back in the limelight.
"For too long, it has been forgotten and in obscurity as a novelty fox head," said Cranfield.
"It now needs to be shone a light on with the respect that it deserves."
This article was fact-checked by Rachel Garner and edited by Clare Watson. While we pride ourselves on our process, we are only human. If you spot a mistake, please let us know.