Box 1. Another pickle for Siberian tigers
From the following article:
Tigers in trouble: Year of the tiger
Jerry Guo
Nature 449, 16-18(6 September 2007)
doi:10.1038/449016a
On a nondescript street near downtown Harbin, the Double Mountain Local Products Wholesale Centre offers the usual array of kitsch items stripped from the wilderness: deer antlers, pelts and dried starfish. A request for tiger wine, a traditional brew of corpse-steeped cheap liquor with dozens of reputed medical benefits, raises a stern eyebrow from an employee who informs a customer that as such concoctions are illegal, they are not available at the store. But at the mention of American money, a store manager intervenes — $100 would buy two bottles, and true to the employee's words they are not at the store; they will be delivered via courier. Doubts about the brew's authenticity are shooed away. The manager is certain the bottles are the genuine article because, she says, "they came from over at that tiger park". She is referring to the Hengdaohezi Feline Breeding Centre on the outskirts of the city. And whether or not she is speaking the truth, the manager is highlighting a looming international stand-off between conservationists and the Chinese government.
C. JENNINGS
Dark liquor: is it tiger wine?
China banned domestic trade of tiger parts in 1993, but that did not arrest the desire for their use in wine or traditional Chinese medicine. A black market fills the demand and goods can often be traced back to breeding centres. In August 2006, a tiger farm in Guangxi province was caught with 400 vats of wine, each stewing a whole tiger carcass. This June at the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) conference in The Hague, the Netherlands, wildlife officials used DNA evidence to accuse the same farm of serving tiger meat.
In a walk-in fridge at Hengdaohezi — off-limits to tourists and journalists — 200 frozen tiger carcasses lie scattered, waiting to be turned into tiger wine and medicine, according to Xu Yanchun, a breeding consultant for the park at neighbouring Northeast Forestry University. Whether Hengdaohezi benefits tiger conservation is questionable, but one thing is certain — if the government lifts the ban on the tiger trade, places such as Hengdaohezi will profit.
Liu Dan, the park's chief scientist, doesn't see a problem. "We can use dead tigers to save live tigers," he explains, promising to use profits for the centre's genetic and reintroduction projects. And the government seems to agree. "It's very hard to go against these pressures to open the trade," says Wang Weisheng, manager of wildlife resources at the State Forestry Administration.
Wang says a decision on the ban could be made as early as October. As of 2006, all tigers have been required to wear a microchip, and Wang says such tracking abilities combined with a certification process — a system that met with success with China's ivory, crocodile and ginseng trade — could lead to a win–win situation for everybody. But lifting the ban may be illegal. Craig Hoover, chief US CITES enforcement officer, says China would be flaunting an existing international ban on tiger parts — and noncompliance could lead to sanctions.
Although several Western economists suggest harvesting captive tigers would relieve poaching pressures, and ultimately funnel money to conservation efforts, most conservationists disagree. "You can't possibly saturate the market with just parts from tiger farms," says John Goodrich, a conservationist with the Wildlife Conservation Society, New York. "It'll be devastating for wild tigers."
J.G.
