As tiger numbers expand beyond protected areas, rising human conflict, staff shortages and a growing backlog of wildlife crime investigations are exposing weaknesses in the country’s conservation model.
In 2025, India recorded 166 tiger deaths, the second-highest annual toll in recent years. More striking still, over half of all tiger fatalities recorded during the past five years occurred outside the country’s tiger reserves, according to data from the National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA).
The figures tell a complicated story.
For decades, India has been celebrated as the global stronghold for wild tigers. The country now supports more than 70 per cent of the world’s remaining wild population. Yet the same recovery that conservationists spent half a century pursuing is creating new pressures on landscapes never designed to accommodate large predators.
Today, around 30 per cent of India’s tigers roam beyond the boundaries of officially protected reserves. There, they encounter roads, villages, farms, railway lines and people.
And increasingly, they die.
Why are more tigers living outside reserves?
The answer lies partly in success.
Tiger reserves across India have become increasingly crowded as populations have recovered under the country’s flagship conservation programme, Project Tiger, launched in 1973. Young animals dispersing from established territories often have little choice but to move into forest corridors, community lands and fragmented habitats beyond reserve borders.
“Tigers do not recognise administrative boundaries,” says Dr Ullas Karanth, conservation scientist and director emeritus of the Centre for Wildlife Studies in Bengaluru. “As populations grow, animals inevitably expand into landscapes shared with people.”
The latest NTCA figures show that of 725 tiger deaths recorded between 2021 and 2025, approximately 51 per cent occurred outside designated tiger reserves.
Those deaths stem from a variety of causes. Some animals are killed in territorial fights. Others die after being struck by vehicles or trains. Electrocution from illegal power lines and deliberate poisoning remain persistent threats in areas where conflict with livestock owners occurs.
Each death has its own story. Together, they reveal a broader shift in where India’s tiger conservation battle is now being fought.
The people shortage behind the numbers
On paper, India possesses one of the world’s most extensive wildlife protection networks.
In practice, many reserves struggle to fill essential frontline positions.
The most recent State of Tigers assessment found that roughly one in five sanctioned posts across tiger reserves remains vacant. Several reserves operate with more than 40 per cent of protection staff positions unfilled. Twenty reserves reported shortages in anti-poaching personnel.
A senior NTCA official, who requested anonymity because they were not authorised to speak publicly, described a system under strain.
“We’re stretched thin in the field,” the official says. “Our forensic laboratories are understaffed as well, which delays analysis and slows investigations. That affects how quickly we can respond to poaching incidents.”
The consequences are becoming visible in the data.
A growing backlog of tiger crime investigations
Wildlife crime investigations are accumulating faster than they are being resolved.
According to NTCA records, five tiger poaching cases from 2019 remain under investigation. Since then, the backlog has steadily increased.
Pending cases stood at 37 in 2020. The figure rose to 58 in 2021, fell slightly to 51 in 2022, then climbed again to 64 in 2023 and 67 in 2024. By 2025, the number had reached 140.
For conservationists, the trend raises concerns about deterrence.
“The certainty of detection matters more than the severity of punishment,” says Belinda Wright, executive director of the Wildlife Protection Society of India. “If investigations are delayed or offenders are not identified, enforcement becomes less effective.”
India is a signatory to the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES), the international agreement designed to regulate trade in threatened species. Yet illegal demand for tiger parts continues to fuel organised wildlife crime networks across Asia.
While poaching accounts for only a proportion of overall tiger mortality, unresolved cases leave unanswered questions about the scale of illegal activity.
Managing conflict beyond reserve boundaries
The challenge facing policymakers is no longer simply how to increase tiger numbers.
It is how to manage coexistence.
In response to growing concern over human-tiger encounters, India’s Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change recently launched an ₹88 crore pilot programme across 10 states. The initiative aims to improve conflict management, compensation systems and rapid-response mechanisms.
The scheme reflects an important shift in conservation thinking.
Historically, tiger protection focused on securing core habitats. Increasingly, attention is turning to the vast matrix of forests, farmland and settlements that connect those habitats.
Dr Yadvendradev Vikramsinh Jhala, a wildlife biologist who has worked extensively on India’s tiger monitoring programmes, argues that future conservation success depends on these shared landscapes.
“The next frontier of tiger conservation is outside reserves,” he says. “The challenge is ensuring people are willing and able to live alongside large carnivores.”
That challenge carries financial implications. Compensation payments, livestock protection measures, habitat connectivity projects and community engagement all require sustained investment.
Conservation, as ever, is not solely about wildlife.
It is also about governance.
What happens next?
India’s tiger recovery remains one of conservation’s most remarkable achievements.
Few countries have reversed the fortunes of a large carnivore at such scale. Yet success has altered the nature of the problem.
The figures emerging from the NTCA suggest that the future of India’s tigers may depend less on what happens inside famous reserves such as Ranthambore, Kanha or Bandhavgarh, and more on what happens beyond their borders.
There, the boundaries between wild and human worlds are increasingly blurred.
And while tiger numbers continue to grow, so too does a question that conservationists, policymakers and communities are still trying to answer: how many people, institutions and landscapes are prepared for the consequences of that success?