http://www.cnn.com/2005/TECH/science/06/28/india.tigers.reut/index.html

PERIYAR TIGER RESERVE, India (Reuters) -- India is turning poachers into
gamekeepers in a bid to save its dwindling tiger population.

The primitive Mannan tribespeople who once plundered the jungles of tropical
southern India, destroying the ecosystem and driving the dwindling number of
tigers deeper into what was left of their habitat, now risk their lives to
protect them.

By guaranteeing the Mannan a comfortable, legal income from its Project
Tiger, the government has made conservation worth more than poaching, says
reserve deputy chief Pramod Kishnan.

"The moment the tiger is gone, that money is gone," he says. "We are
converting the destroyers of the park into its protectors. With their help,
we have caught about 150 poachers."

About 500 Mannan families live in round, thatch-roofed huts in a new
government settlement on the edge of the park. The men -- armed with ancient
bolt-action .303 rifles -- work mainly as rangers and guides.

The village women make voluntary patrols, giving up one day every two weeks
to slog through the jungle. The only equipment the government gives them is
a next-to-useless thin plastic raincoat and a green baseball cap with a
tiger face on the front.

"We realize now that we were doing such bad things. It was becoming a
desert," says Leila Kasim as she prepares for a patrol. "Now, it's more
alive."

In March, wildlife experts and the media suddenly started talking of an
alarming drop in big cat numbers across India, home to almost half the
world's surviving tigers, saying some of the 32-year-old Project Tiger's
showcase reserves now had none.

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh ordered a police investigation and announced a
special wildlife anti-crime taskforce.

"We have a problem at hand and if we don't tackle it effectively, I think we
could be doing irretrievable damage to our heritage," he said last month on
a tour of Ranthambhore reserve a few hours from New Delhi. "The future is in
our hands."

Singh did sight a tigress, "Lady of the Lake", although some newspapers said
that was more than likely thanks to an old ranger trick to keep VIPs happy:
use a bait to lure an animal whose habits are known close to the guest's
pre-planned route.

A century ago, there were about 40,000 tigers in India. They were a major
danger to villagers and explorers and a test of hunting skills for
flamboyant maharajas and officers of the Raj.

Now, officials estimate there are about 3,700, but wildlife experts say the
number is closer to 2,000.

Hunting is illegal and trade in tiger parts banned, but a single animal can
fetch as much as $50,000. Organs and parts are popular in traditional
medicine. Bones are worth $400 a kg (2.2 lb), a penis almost $850, a tooth
$120 and a claw just $10.

With a penalty for poaching of three years' jail and a fine of 25,000 rupees
($575), the potential rewards are rich in a nation where millions live on
less than a dollar a day.

Tigers are also vulnerable to the poaching of the animals they hunt and to
habitat destruction.

Periyar, 777 sq km (300 sq mile) of almost impenetrable jungle, patches of
undulating open grasslands and a meandering dam studded with the skeletons
of dead trees, is comfortably carrying its capacity of about 40 tigers,
800-900 elephants and thousands of monkeys, deer, wild boars and other
species, says Kishnan.
About 500,000 tourists visit a year, gawping from tour boats as they glide
past elephants and other wildlife drawn to the water's edge. But the main
human pressure here is the 5 million pilgrims visiting the Sabarimala Hindu
temple within the park.

They pay nothing towards the reserve's upkeep. But the temple in honor of
Lord Ayyappa, one of South India's most revered Hindu deities, is a major
site for for all castes and religions.

"In India, religion is a tricky business," sighs Kishnan.

Periyar's rugged terrain has always given tigers more protection from
poachers than the relatively flat and open plains of the north. But their
numbers fell anyway as tribal gangs raided the forest, at the heart of the
famed Malabar spice coast, for cinnamon, vanilla, cardamom and sandalwood.

Thirty-six-year-old Surindar Sumar and his band of 20, all illiterate, were
once one of the most notorious gangs, stripping 10,000 cinnamon trees a year
and earning thousands of dollars.

Now in his plastic Chinese sandals and brown camouflage uniform, he is a
leading ranger, taking home 3,500 rupees ($80) a month. Like smuggling, the
work is risky, from a run-in with poachers to the perils of the jungle. And
the tigers.

But the Mannan supplement their park earnings with returns from a
government-sponsored pepper growing and marketing scheme.

"We used to throw our money away on cards, drinking and fines," he says.
"Now ... our future and the future of the forest depend on each other. We
are at peace with the authorities, at peace with ourselves."