The Changing Fortunes of Wild and Captive Animals in China

 fodder additive BEIJING—The plight of stray cats in Beijing has long drawn the sympathy of Juan "Crystal"Wang. The demure, soft-spoken young woman has spent the past fewyears placing forlorn felines in good homes. View a slide show of the animal market But more recently, she boosted the fortunes of larger cats as well by helping expose the fact that the Xiongsen Bear &Tiger Zoo near the city of Guilin was killing the endangered cats in its "zoo" and serving the meat at its snack bar ordropping the carcasses into vats of wine. (The tiger additive was intended to replicate a now banned traditional Chinese medicine treatment for rheumatism of tiger bone powder in wine; thatconcoction also is hawked online and in newspaper ads as a cure forall ailments.) But today Wang is taking me to a pet market, as part of her workfor a U.S.-based animal protection group, the International Fund for Animal Welfare—or, as it's translated into Chinese, the "InternationalAnimal Love and Care Fund". In general, the Chinese have sofar found it difficult to embrace the concept of providing welfarefor animals when so many people don't have it, Grace Ge Gabriel,IFAW's regional director for Asia explained to me later. That doesn't mean they don't love pets. Throughout the city, I sawresidents strolling the streets with petite Pekingese dogs. And this animal market—a sprawling rundown buildinghoneycombed with cubicle-size stores and pierced by grungyskylights that filter the strong Beijing light—boasted scoresof twittering songbirds, mewling kittens and chirping crickets. A young girl laughed with glee as she walked with her fathercarrying two songbirds in a large metal cage. The critters—a profusion of different varieties and sizesfrom tiny turtle to giant carp—must make do with close quarters. So close, that onegood-size turtle—wider than a dinner plate—couldn'tturn around in its tank and the rabbits confined in wire pens could not move at all. But four-legged and finned friends have value beyond merecompanionship in China: they are food and fodder for healing balms. The pet market boasted many of the same animals (if slightlysmaller in size) as the markets for live food that I have seen. Inanother example, a fish dealer in a farm produce market in ZhejiangProvince tried to sell a 25-pound (11.5-kilogram) turtle that hemistook for a rock before it moved, according to the ShanghaiMorning Post. And Beijing has a locally famous restaurant thatserves all manner of different animal penises, which are supposedlygood for vigor. "The Chinese believe that eating the same part of the animalis good for that part of you," Gabriel explained. That belief extends to traditional Chinese medicine. When Wang and I visited a Beijing shop, I did not find any tigerbone powder for sale (not even the "tiger" powdercontaining leopard bones that began to be sold after the Chinesegovernment banned the sale of the striped predator's skeletalremains). I did, however, find deer and seal penis—importedfrom Canada!—as well as tablets made from essence ofkangaroo, sheep placenta extract, and fur seal oil, all of whichare thought to be good for the mind and general health. Although animal ingredients are used, the majority of suchtraditional treatments rely on bitter herbs and flowers to cure everything from insomnia to high cholesterol, as I found out after submitting to an examination by a traineddoctor at the store. Using an electrical penlike device to prodvarious regions of my right hand, the physician asked me if I feltanything. She ran the device along the heel of my hand, producing atingling feeling—which apparently meant that I had backtrouble. Poking the middle part of my hand yielded a diagnosis thatconfirmed what I already knew: I had not been sleeping well and Ihad sinus problems—perhaps from the bad Beijing air? The doctor selected specific herbs to cure these woes, at whichpoint Wang fortunately helped me beat a hasty retreat. During the car ride to meet Gabriel, Wang showed me a snapshot of awee kitten on her cell phone. When she found him, she explained, hewas no bigger than the palm of her hand; now he is a big, fat catliving contentedly with his adoptive family. And that formerkitten—and others like him that still roam Beijing’sstreets at night—may have helped to save its larger and moreendangered cousin by inspiring Wang's helpful actions. The tigersin their tiny metal and concrete cages may not be free, but atleast they are no longer on the menu or in the wine.