In the northern mountains bordering Russia, everyone knew the spry Chinese man as a skilled and ruthless hunter -- the kind who once killed a mother black bear as her cubs looked on.
But instead of stalking
the woods for prey, Liang Fengen now roams the hills without a rifle,
working as a ranger to save the area's endangered Siberian tiger
population and protect other wildlife.
"When
I think about what I used to do, it seems so cruel," said Liang, 61,
who lives in a small house at the foot of the mountains in northeast
Heilongjiang province.
Liang's conversion
is the result of efforts by nonprofits like the World Wildlife Fund
(WWF) and Wildlife Conservation Society, which are harnessing the
knowledge of local poachers to rescue Siberian (also known as Amur)
tigers from extinction.
At
the crack of dawn every morning, the expert tracker patrols the forested
area by foot in search of data for conservation research: a tiger print
here, some wild boar faeces there.
The
plight of the world's largest cats is reflected in red banners along the
trails leading to the dense woods which proclaim: "Siberian tigers are
mankind's friends."
About 540 are
estimated to exist in the wild in a huge are straddling Russia, China
and possibly North Korea, having made a comeback from the brink of
extinction in the 1940s, when only around 40 Amurs were left, according
to WWF.
Their biggest threat is humans --
both those who poach the tigers to sell their parts on the black market
and those who illegally hunt their prey.
While
Liang has never seen a Siberian tiger -- his targets were wild boars
and black bears -- he says he was indifferent to their plight, and even
more so to how his own hunting contributed to the depletion of their
food sources.
"I thought of animals as a prize to be captured," Liang said, "until I slowly had a change of heart."
Familiar territory
Liang
ascends the wooded mountains wearing a full camouflage outfit, complete
with cloth strips wrapped tightly around his ankles to keep water out.
In the winter, he braves minus 30-degree Celsius (minus 22 Fahrenheit)
temperatures.
The
ranger collects Siberian tiger waste samples for DNA population tracking
and uses a GPS device to transmit the coordinates of paw prints and
deer carcasses -- evidence of paths the tigers have travelled.
It is all familiar terrain for Liang, who traversed the mountains as a precocious kid killing for sport and survival.
Even
while food shortages plagued the country during Chairman Mao Zedong's
rule, Liang's family always had enough to eat because he and his father
would bring home wild boars.
"It's known
around the country that Liang was ever the practiced poacher," said Jin
Yongchao, an officer in WWF's northeast China office.
"He has influenced many others."
Some 30 Heilongjiang hunters have traded in their hunting rifles for ranger uniforms, Jin said.
Working
in conservation did not always come naturally to Liang. After he was
recruited in 2004 to become a ranger for Suiyang's forestry bureau, he
surreptitiously continued hunting after dark.
"It was a hard habit to kick," said Liang, who finally stopped more than a decade ago.
Now,
he said, "as long as my body allows and as long as the forestry bureau
needs me, I will continue to protect the tigers with my whole heart and
soul."
'Tiger farms'
While
Chinese rangers and conservationists work to increase the Siberian
tigers' population in the wild, the country also hosts about 200 captive
tiger breeding centres, but many have been embroiled in controversy.
On
a recent afternoon at the Hengdaohezi Siberian Tiger Park, a duck
dangled helplessly from a zip-line above an artificial pond as hungry
tigers circled around it.
When a
mechanical harness abruptly dropped the duck into the water, the tigers
surrounded the bird as it splashed frantically until disappearing
between one of their jaws.
The
feeding, a common form of entertainment at Chinese tiger breeding
centres, was witnessed by a group of excited smartphone camera-flashing
visitors on a mesh-enclosed platform.
"We
have the greatest understanding of how to breed Siberian tigers in the
world," said Liu Changhai, the 37-year-old manager of the park, which
touted the arrival of 50 newborn cubs this April.
Parks
like Hengdaohezi have repeatedly come under fire from conservationists
who accuse them of being "tiger farms" that breed the endangered cats
for profit with no intention of returning them to the wild.
With
more than 500 tigers, its sister park in Harbin holds the largest
amount of captive Siberian tigers in the world. They star in circus-like
performances and their cubs are passed around for visitors to hold.
Wildlife
protection campaigners allege that after the tigers die, the breeding
centres sell their pelts and bones: in China, "tiger bone wine" is
considered a medicinal delicacy even though the sale of tiger bones has
been banned since 1993.
Liu denied the
park has any aims other than to one day release the tigers back into the
wild describing it as his team's "greatest wish."
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