Hungry tigers turn to humans as food

Big cats in central Indian district of Chandrapur have turned man-eaters as their habitat shrinks and traditional prey is hunted by poachers.

The shepherd Nandaji Chalak, who lost cattle in attacks by tigers, leads a goat to the jungle to use as bait to trap the prowling beasts.

UTHALPETH, INDIA // On a recent scorching afternoon, Shakuntala Satpute, 35, was collecting firewood in a patch of forest abutting this tiny village in central India when a tiger pounced, taking her down with a stroke of its powerful paw. Villagers scurried to the forest as they heard the screams, only to find a trail of blood leading up to Shakuntala's mutilated body, dragged deep into the woods. "The tiger was a so huge," said Rukmani Satpute, the victim's sister-in-law, stretching her hands wide to describe its size. Rukmani, who was with Shakuntala but managed to flee, shuddered as she described the long, sharp talons that protruded from the prowling tiger's paws. In villages like Uthalpeth, located in the Brahmapuri Forest Division of Chandrapur district in central India, a conflict is raging pitting man against beast. This region, at the threshold of a protected reserve called the Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve (TATR), is home to some 90 tigers. Since 2006, about 40 people have died in tiger attacks. Conservationists say the attacks are unusual, considering tigers in this area typically gorge themselves on wild cattle and have coexisted with villagers for decades. They point to an overhunting of the tigers' traditional prey and a shrinking of their habitat for the increase in attacks. "Why are humans suddenly figuring on tigers' menu in the Chandrapur Forest Circle? One reason is clear that the wild boar, deer and sambars - the big cat's traditional prey - are dwindling," said a recent study by Satpuda Foundation, a wildlife protection group. India's tiger population has shrunk by 50 per cent in the past six years, with their numbers dwindling to 1,411 from 3,642 in 2002, according to the latest tiger census. But the TATR, where there are 43 tigers, is a rare conservation success with tigers breeding exceedingly well. However, as the human population around TATR swells, farmers are clearing more of the forested land to make room for cultivation and shepherds for grazing cattle. Loggers and poachers fell trees and hunt wild cattle, shrinking the existing tiger habitat. And that is creating pressure on tigers to prey on humans, conservationists say. "Human interference," said Kishor Rithe, the director of the Sampada Foundation, is creating all the trouble. B Majumdar, the state's chief conservation officer, said there is a possibility that these attacks could be in self-defence. "Let's not forget most of these cases have happened when people ventured into the forests." In Uthalpeth village, the threshold of the emerald-green forest has been receding by the year, said Nandaji Chalak, a 45-year-old paddy farmer, who was attacked by a tiger just two days after Shakuntala Satpute was killed, but managed to escape. "Do you see that?" he said, pointing his index finger at a denuded hillock at the edge of the village. "That was once enveloped by tall trees." As farming gives low yields, villagers are turning to forest produce for their livelihood, he said. Paddy farming feeds stomachs only five months in a year. Like other villagers,Mr Chalak often ventures into the forest for bamboo and firewood to pluck Tendu leaves to make beedi, a locally made cigarette, and a wild flower called Mahua, used to prepare country hooch. All these forest resources supplement Mr Chalak's income. Conservationists like Mr Rithe emphasise that the government needs to generate more employment for locals that is not based on forestss. Shakuntala's killing has made Uthalpeth's residents restive. They are demanding that the attacking tigers be killed or caged. At sundown, farmers in this tranquil village empty the paddy fields and head home. Children playing in the village square are ushered indoors. If they have to venture out to the fields, they do so wielding machetes and bamboo batons. Forest guards have erected makeshift watch towers in mango trees, and set up tiger traps, baited with bleating goats. Forest officials share the concern that the rising animosity might lead to retaliatory killings of tigers. Three tigers were recently fatally poisoned after they killed domestic cattle. "It is unlawful to kill a tiger, otherwise we'd hunt them down," Mr Chalak said, bending over a fresh pug mark imprinted on a dirt-road on the threshold of Uthalpeth. "One of these killed our woman." While villagers suggest that tiger numbers are increasing, Mr Rithe contends it is the human interference that has forced them to stray towards villages. Conservationists point out that in the six villages located inside the TATR, humans and tigers continue to coexist amicably. There are 43 tigers in TATR's 625 sq km area, but they have never preyed on humans within the reserve. In one village called Jamni, located inside the reserve, Inder Shah Madhavi, 35, a paddy farmer, said he often sees tigers as he heads to his 0.8-hectare farm land. "They are more scared of us than we are of them," he said, adding that he does not feel they are hostile to him. The tigers, he said, protect his fields from wild boars, blue cows, and sambhar - all animals that often destroy the paddy crop. "The tiger is a friend, not an enemy," he said. [e-mail]