The shooting of a man-eating tiger, as it happened
recently in the Nilgiris, Tamil Nadu — barely two weeks after two other
tigers preyed on four people in neighbouring Karnataka — invariably
polarises public opinion. Locals, whose lives are at risk, want
maneaters shot. Animal lovers, on the other hand, demand their “safe
capture.” Caught in the middle, officials have to confront increasingly
angry mobs, while authorities in Delhi insist on elaborate “operating
procedures.” In Bandipur, Karnataka, after dozens of attempts at darting
a tiger with a tranquillizing gun had failed, and after the big cat
killed its third victim, angry locals burnt the forest office, forcing
forest staff to abandon the scene. A posse of armed police had to
control the situation, until the 12-year-old infirm male tiger was
finally darted.
Science and practical experience
clearly show that we cannot care for every individual wild tiger. Animal
lovers and conservationists should therefore focus on saving the
species as a whole, rather than worry about saving every individual.
Conservation interventions must therefore be guided by scientific
evidence and social practicality, rather than emotion.
Understanding tigers
My
tiger research and conservation of three decades focusses on the
central Western Ghats, which consists of forests in Karnataka and
adjacent parts of Kerala and Tamil Nadu. This landscape now harbours the
largest tiger population globally. However, the 400 or so big cats in
my study area are restricted to reserves comprising less than 10 per
cent of the total area. With the overall landscape populated by 15
million people, public support for conservation is critical to tiger
survival in the long term.
Studies show that tiger
populations in some well-protected reserves, such as Nagarahole and
Bandipur, in Karnataka, have dramatically rebounded, with their numbers
attaining near saturation densities of 10-15 tigers per 100 sq.km. A
substantial part of the credit for this must go to the forest
departments of these three States. With the control of hunting and
cattle grazing, deer, gaur and wild pigs have attained optimum densities
of 20 or more animals per square kilometre, which is crucial for a
healthy tiger population.
Every wild tiger requires a
prey base of 500 animals to sustain it. When prey becomes abundant,
individual tiger territories shrink and breeding increases. A single
female may produce 10-15 cubs in her lifetime, an average of one cub a
year. Consequently, thriving tiger populations produce annual surpluses,
pushing dispersing sub-adults and old tigers to the edges of reserves.
These are the animals that prey on livestock and, more rarely, on humans, becoming “problem tigers.”
Tiger-human conflict
On
rare occasions, tigers may accidentally attack persons moving in dense
cover, mistaking them for prey, or in self-defence, when surprised.
Sometimes they may even consume the victim. But if they do not
subsequently prey on humans, these tigers also cannot be called
“maneaters.” However, attacks occur when uncontrollable mobs surround
and harry “problem tigers” when they venture out of reserves. Such
tigers are not “maneaters.”
True maneaters are
individual animals that persistently stalk and hunt human beings, after
losing their instinctive fear. They pose a serious risk to local people
and must be swiftly removed. By my reckoning there have been less than
half-a-dozen such cases in the last decade in this region, three
instances in the last two months. In all these cases, the tigers were
injured, aged or infirm. Even so, maneaters do not prey exclusively on
humans. They also kill livestock or wild prey opportunistically. There
is no evidence at all that tigers get “addicted” to human flesh as
common lore has it.
The critical point is that recent
cases of conflict in the Western Ghats, central India and the Terai are
a consequence of rebounding tiger numbers. In some sense, these rare
instances of conflict we are witnessing are the price of conservation
successes. In contrast, in the extensive but overhunted forests of the
tribal belts of Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Odisha and the North Eastern
Hill States, tigers have been either extirpated totally, or occur at low
densities. In these regions, where tiger conservation has clearly
failed, tiger-human conflict is virtually non-existent. This is not good
news for tigers.
Research shows that in my study
area, 20 per cent of the tiger population is lost every year due to
several causes: fights between rivals, injuries, starvation, poaching
and official removals by shooting or capture, following conflict
incidents. I estimate that at least 50-75 tigers are being lost this way
annually, although only a fraction of these mortalities are detected.
However, such loss is not a cause for worry in itself as the birth of
new tigers makes up for it.
To kill or not to kill?
Given
this inevitable annual loss of 20 per cent in thriving populations,
trying to “rescue” a few man-eating tigers is irrelevant to
accomplishing the conservation objective of expanding and stabilising
wild tiger populations. Tigers involved in conflict incidents are often
seriously injured, infirm or old. If captured and removed to a zoo, they
suffer a life of perpetual stress from years in captivity. Caring for
these doomed tigers misdirects scarce resources that could be used for
conserving their wild relatives. Sadly, for old and injured “conflict
tigers,” a humane and quick death may be the best option.
Well-meaning
animal lovers often do not understand that in high-pressure conflict
situations, safe chemical capture of a free-ranging tiger is difficult
or even impossible. Darting a stressed out animal playing hide-and-seek
is an extremely difficult task. On the other hand, shooting the animal
with a gun is often far easier, and saves human lives.
When
precious days are spent in clumsy attempts to “rescue” maneaters,
growing public anger seriously undermines the long-term support crucial
for wild tigers, protected areas and the forest personnel who guard
them. Overall, the future of wild tigers as a species is rendered more
precarious when local public anxiety and anger are not quickly dealt
with by eliminating the problem animal. By caring for individual wild
tigers far too deeply, we may be dooming the species.
To
save the tiger for posterity, we need to work on expanding protected
area coverage, and reducing adverse human impacts. Both these require
increased local support for tiger conservation. Yet, this is precisely
what is undermined when human-tiger conflict escalates. While a few
animal lovers may feel good if a maneater is “rescued” rather than
killed, the cause of tiger conservation suffers.
In
this overall context, the decision of the Tamil Nadu government to shoot
the maneater in the Nilgiris, rather than persist in pointless rescue
attempts, was the right thing to do.
(K. Ullas Karanth is director for Science-Asia, Wildlife Conservation Society).
