On a dusty track on the Indonesian island of Rinca, a local guide tells a group of tourists about the life cycle of the Komodo dragon, the island's famous lizard, which can kill a water buffalo with a single bacteria-laced bite.

Halfway through his explanation, the guide stops abruptly, staring at the ground just past his ring of listeners. He raises his forked staff and signals to the visitors to move toward him. Behind the group, motionless and camouflaged against sprawling tree roots, an adult dragon lies within striking range of several of the tourists, including me.

When they're not dismembering buffalo, lumbering along a path or lying in the sun digesting, Komodo dragons, which can grow to more than 10 feet long and weigh 198 pounds, can be next to invisible in the dusty wooded scrub of Rinca and neighboring Komodo Island.

The camouflage allows them to catch prey as fast as a deer, with one sudden lunge and a poisonous bite. Once the lethal cocktail of infectious saliva enters the victim's blood, it is only a matter of time before the victim dies. The dragon is prepared to wait days for its dinner.

I had been to Komodo Island the day before with a group from the Silolona, a chartered yacht based on a traditional Phinisi trading vessel built by American Patti Seery. We had landed in the late afternoon so Seery could do the paperwork for sailing in the park area, which includes Komodo, Rinca and a few other smaller islands together with their surrounding marine environment.

HUMANS BEWARE

Finding the world's largest lizard isn't hard. They simply hang out, occasionally under the stilted houses of Komodo village, the largest settlement in the park. The dragons are attracted by the smell of cooking and perhaps the chance to grab an unattended goat or chicken, park guides said.

Even lumbering lazily around the houses, Komodo dragons are an imposing sight. They have long, hooked claws and sharp teeth and can run up to 11 mph.

In 2007, the death of 9-year-old Mansur sparked controversy about the management of the park. The boy had gone into a field near the village of Komodo to answer the call of nature when he was attacked by a dragon that bit his stomach and crushed his skull on a rock, according to park rangers. Villagers drove the reptile away, but the boy died.

Some locals blamed the park's conservation rules that include a ban on keeping dogs, which used to deter dragons from entering the village. A natural fence of kedondo trees has been planted to prevent lizards from entering the village, said Marcus Matthews-Sawyer, senior adviser for tour- ism, marketing and communications at PT. Putri Naga Komodo, a joint venture between the national park and Arlington, Va.-based The Nature Conservancy, which manages tourism in the reserve.

STRAINED RELATIONS

The relationship between conservationists and villagers is likely to be further strained as the human population grows, taxing the island's resources. Komodo village has more than doubled in size in the past 13 years, partly because local residents have access to the park's rich fishing grounds.

Still, Mansur was only the second recorded death from a dragon attack since the park opened in 1980, said Matthews- Sawyer.

A plain white cross commemorates Komodo's most famous victim, 74-year-old Rudolf von Reding. The story goes that the Swiss baron sat down to rest in 1974, urging fellow tourists to continue without him. When they returned, the only traces left were his spectacles and camera, or, in more dramatic versions of the tale, a shoe and a blood-spattered rock.

In any case, the baron was never seen again and was presumed to have been taken by a dragon.

Seery recommended we skip the more touristy trails of Komodo and head instead to smaller Rinca to seek the dragons within their natural setting in the hills.

POKING THE BEAST

A dozen of us took two speedboats to Rinca's small jetty the next day and hired guides for the walk into the island's dry forest. Mine, Saverinus Mabu, took one of the long sticks with a forked end from a rack as we prepared to set off. How, I asked, would that protect you from a charging dragon?

Mabu made a jabbing motion with the stick and said that if you poked the dragon in the throat, it would withdraw. I remained uneasy about the idea that my professional protection from a bone-crunching cocktail of lethal bacteria was a lightly built 27-year-old with a pointed stick.

At the ranger station we heard news that there was a fresh kill just more than a mile up the track and that several dragons had gathered to feed. By the time we reached the spot beside a dry river bed the smell of blood had traveled and there were as many as 30 dragons, from young 2-year-olds to monster males, ripping flesh and bones off the carcass of a water buffalo. Mabu said the animal had been bitten two weeks ago and died that morning.

BUFFALO BANQUET

The feasting was frenetic. The lizards crawled over each other to attack the rapidly dwindling carcass of the unfortunate beast, swallowing whole legs, hoof and all, in one go. Small dragons darted in for pieces that flew out of the orgy, careful not to get too close to their bigger cousins.

It was a great opportunity for a photo, though the camera does narrow your field of vision. As I crouched to get a close-up shot, I felt a sharp pain in my side. I looked up to find that one of the guides had prodded me with his stick. He motioned with his head at something behind me, where a large male was sauntering down the gully to join the banquet.

I scrambled out of its way. Maybe those sticks are useful after all.