Print

Mail

wiki links

FEATURE : Forest ranger relishes job despite its many hardships

“We forest rangers are not law enforcement personnel. With no judicial power, we cannot arrest illegal loggers, we can only monitor their activities.” — Chung Chih-yung, forest ranger

Every time Chung Chih-yung (鍾智勇) comes across an old tree, he invariably hugs it and greets it as affectionately as he would an old friend by calling out its name.

The marine-turned forest ranger says he simply cannot understand the heartlessness of illegal loggers who would fell a centuries-old living object in just a few minutes with a chainsaw.

As a member of the elite mountain patrol special corps based out of the Chaojhou (潮州) station of the Pingtung Forest District Office, Chung has immersed himself in the mountains for the last seven years.

He has dedicated himself to protecting his old friends despite low pay, tough conditions and the frustration of knowing that one man cannot make much of a difference in stopping illegal activities.

Although Taiwan enacted a wildlife conservation law in 1989 and banned exploitation of natural forests in 1992, illegal logging and poaching remain widespread.

Forestry Bureau statistics show that authorities solved 160 cases of wildlife poaching and found 770 people involved in illegal logging in 2007, but conservationists say the real number is far greater.

Just recently, a beautifully shaped 350-year-old orange jasmine tree in the Dawushan (大武山) area was uprooted, and two men were arrested in Taichung County for chopping down a centuries-old camphor tree.

Part of the problem is limited manpower. Chung and 642 other rangers are deployed in eight forest districts to cover 2.1 million hectares of mountain woodlands nationwide. They are not authorized to make arrests and can only alert the police to the crimes.

A forest and nature conservation police brigade was inaugurated in July 2004 to boost enforcement and devote more people to respond to the rangers’ calls, but that initiative only added 178 police officers.

Still, Chung says, the creation of the new force has improved cooperation between the police and the rangers, with the rangers having become the mountain patrol guides for police in catching illegal loggers, known locally as “mountain rats.”

“After years of mountain patrols, instinct will tell us that there are mountain rats working in the region, especially when we spot a newly opened pathway or earth moving and digging equipment such as shovels. We then immediately inform the conservation police,” he said.

Chung has to lead the way to help police ambush poachers in operations that sometimes last more than a day as trees such as stout camphor, red cypress and red juniper all grow deep in the mountains.

“Ambushing poachers in the woods in such locations is a tall order. We need to deal with insects and snakes and prevent detection by the loggers,” Chung said. “And even if we have a companion, we cannot talk. In some cases, each ranger has to work alone. We cannot use lights, as they could be mistaken for the eyes of an animal, which illegal loggers will not hesitate to shoot.”

Mountain patrolling is a physically exacting but low-paying job, with a monthly salary of less than NT$30,000 after labor and health insurance premiums are deducted.

And it is not without its dangers.

“Each encounter with mountain rats can be a life-threatening challenge,” Chung said. “The monitoring process is filled with fear and anxiety. Forest rangers are unarmed, while the mountain rats often carry hunting rifles, knives or machetes and like to fire their weapons into the air from time to time.”

The job also has its share of frustrations, not the least of which is the rangers’ lack of authority.

“We forest rangers are not law enforcement personnel. With no judicial power, we cannot arrest illegal loggers, we can only monitor their activities,” he said.

When a two-member patrol team spots poaching or illegal logging, one ranger remains at the site, while the other has to run to the closest police precinct to report the case, which can often take several hours.

“Sometimes when the police finally arrive, the loggers are long gone and the police then blame us for bringing them on a wild goose chase,” Chung said.

Yet Chung sympathizes with the Aborigines, who are hired by anonymous “big mountain rats” to illegally uproot or fell old trees, because the “big rats” prey on the workers while remaining out of sight, beyond the reach of the law.

Chung says he enjoys his work because he has witnessed progress in wildlife conservation.

His biggest success was last May, when he discovered large undisturbed tracts of rare old-growth red cypress and Taiwan fir, he said.

“The biggest tract encompasses more than 40 centuries-old red cypress, some of which need 15 people to hug,” he said.

“When I started my mountain career, I could hardly hear any animal sounds and saw a lot of litter on Dawushan trails,” he said.

“Through intensive publicity campaigns to raise public awareness of the importance of nature and ecological conservation in recent years, we can now hear the sounds of Formosan barking deer, goats and other animals,” Chung said.
This story has been viewed 1223 times.