Swiftlets in Thailand

(12-19) 04:00 PST Muk Island, Thailand -- High in the caves of Thailand's idyllic southern islands lies an unlikely treasure that people are willing to kill for -- the nest of a sparrowlike bird called the swiftlet.

About a half-dozen companies, which have been granted concessions by local governments to gather swiftlet nests for the lucrative bird's nest soup market, are protecting their fiefdoms with private armies that shoot at "unauthorized" visitors. They also bribe authorities to look the other way, charge tourist operators protection money and keep locals suspected of being poachers from their traditional fishing grounds on the coast of the scenic Andaman Sea.

These concessionaires are so secretive about their operations on about 140 cave-ridden limestone islands that few Thai officials have any idea what they are up to or are willing to provide much information.

"The bird's nest companies are big and influential," said a bureaucrat from the tax revenue department in Bangkok who spoke off the record. "We can't give out information (about their activities) to just anyone."

But it is no secret that swiftlet colonies are being depleted to supply Chinese restaurants with edible nests from glutinous globs of dried bird saliva that are cooked in a broth. The soup is popular because it is believed to help growth, skin complexion and sex drive, prevent lung disease and stave off aging.

When a swiftlet's cup-shaped nest is taken before it can lay eggs, the bird is forced to build another one. In the caves, collectors shimmy up bamboo poles lashed together with liana vines. Death and injury from falls are not uncommon.

The climbers typically take two nests from each bird, allowing the bird to rear its young in a third so the population can regenerate. But high demand has increasingly caused gatherers to take that nest as well, and baby birds are sometimes thrown away.

A local source familiar with the bird's nest industry said there are only one-third as many nests as there were a decade ago, and the swiftlets have abandoned many caves.

"When the resources are of such high value, the temptation is to take as much as you can get hold of," said Charli Evans, representative in Thailand for the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES), an international group that monitors commerce in endangered species.

Many people interviewed for this story were afraid to speak on the record. A resident of the town of Puhuket who has spoken out against a nest company's violent tactics has moved his residence four times because of death threats. "It is a dark business," he said.

The Chinese began eating bird's nest soup about 1,500 years ago. Today, millions of nests are sent to Chinese communities around the world. Hong Kong is the world's largest market, followed by the United States, mainland China and Taiwan.

Some call it "white gold," because a kilo (2.2 pounds) sells for almost $2, 000. A bowl of bird's nest soup at a good Hong Kong restaurant can go for as much as $60. Thailand exports about 19,800 pounds annually, which generates $23.8 million in taxes.

A push by CITES to protect swiftlets has failed, mostly because of opposition by southeast Asian countries where so much money is at stake.

In Thailand's southern Trang province, a company called Satun Trang Bird's Nest recently obtained a five-year concession on swiftlet nests. Fishermen on Muk say company speedboats have chased them away and armed men have shot at them if they sailed too close to company operations. In the early 1990s, clashes between licensed collectors and locals who poached on nest concession areas resulted in the deaths of 29 villagers in a nearby area called Pattalung, according to the Bangkok Post.

"I was standing at the head of my boat looking for schools of fish," said San Khang-Nam, who, along with his son and nephew, was recently wounded by guards shooting at them when their boat approached company operations. "I didn't have any idea what had happened (until) I felt the heat of the blood running down my leg."

Daraeb Meun-Phakdee, an elderly resident who has fished on Muk since childhood, says the island has become too dangerous. "I can't even feed my family anymore," he said.

Area fishermen have filed police reports after each attack, but their complaints typically have been ignored. Fear of trigger-happy security guards is so great that a Muk fisherman recently sailed into a typhoon rather than risk waiting out the storm near a concession area. His boat sank, and he drowned. His daughter clung to a piece of Styrofoam and managed to drag her father's body ashore.

Apichit Angsutrangkul, who runs Satun Trang Bird's Nest, did not return calls seeking comment.

Until 1997, the bird's nest industry was governed by a 61-year-old law. Then new legislation decentralized control, giving local governments the power to grant five-year concessions to the highest bidder in exchange for tax payments of $252 per kilo collected. This new system is riddled with corruption, most observers agree.

The companies avoid paying higher taxes by reporting fewer kilos. "If they get 600 kilos, they report 200. I should know. I used to count them," said a former manager of Satun Trang Bird's Nest, who asked to remain anonymous.

A committee headed by the local governor is supposed to oversee the tax collection. "There are no real checks," said Issama-el Bensaard, a committee member and industry critic. "The checks take place in hotel restaurants over red wine and meals hosted by Satun Trang Bird's Nest. They even serve us bird's nest."

Ironically, many islands are part of national parks and should be protected by the Royal Forestry Department. Yet concessionaires often have refused access to forestry officials.

"We are not getting the full cooperation of the companies," said Schwann Tunhikorn, director of the Royal Forestry Department's Wildlife Conservation Department.

But Somsak Kittidhrakul, president of P.P. Cabana, owner of the nation's largest bird's nest concession of almost 100 islands, says he is taking the necessary precautions to preserve the swiftlet.

"To conserve the bird population is the first tenet of our business," he said. "We wouldn't kill our own livelihood now, would we?"

This article appeared on page A - 16 of the San Francisco Chronicle