CEDAR CITY » Duffers beware: The sixth hole at the sun-baked Cedar Ridge Golf Course is a doozy.

You may be chipping over about 50 mounds of red dirt in the fairway and negotiating dozens of Utah prairie dogs frolicking on the clipped green grass like preteens at a slumber party.

Balls sometimes bonk them on the head or vanish into an underground burrow. Mostly, the prairie dogs ruin the fairways, munch the greens like salad and chew up the sprinkler system.

"It drives us nuts," said John Evans, director of golf at the Cedar City-run course where prairie dogs have infiltrated 13 of 18 holes and the driving range. "They used to let us just shoot 'em."

But when it comes to Utah prairie dogs -- once considered a scourge worthy only of a bullet or dose of poison -- nothing is as easy as it used to be.

Ever since they were protected by the Endangered Species Act in 1973, tensions have simmered in southern Utah over how much humans should yield in the name of saving this cinnamon-colored rodent.

"They're pretty cute little critters. I can see where people like them," said Wayne Smith, a commissioner in Iron County, long a stronghold for prairie dogs. "I don't dislike them, I just dislike the problems they cause us."

Many locals -- a few of whom still resort to illegal killing -- remain irritated that the prairie dogs have torn up the golf course and blame them for stifling economic development and infringing on private property rights.

Environmentalists fight back, saying government efforts to recover the species have been halfhearted and too tolerant of policies, including allowing some of the animals to be shot legally, that harm a key species for southern Utah ecosystems.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, too, acknowledges that something has to change. The agency is now reworking its management plan for the species, placing an increased emphasis on preserving the prairie dogs on private land and less on efforts to relocate them to public lands.

A draft is expected to be sent out for public review this summer.

Part of the ongoing challenge is that 70 percent of the prairie dogs live on private land and prefer the same grassy valleys also popular for homes, farms, commercial developments, roads and schools. Iron County has more than doubled its population since 1990.

"Their landscape has changed, mostly due to us," said Nathan Brown, a biologist with the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources.

The county doles out a limited number of permits each year to develop on land occupied by prairie dogs. Recipients can either have the prairie dogs relocated or pay $1,000 per acre to build over the habitat. That money is then used for prairie dog recovery efforts elsewhere.

The permits are much sought-after during boom times. Last year, there were more than 600 applications for just 62 permits. The cooling economy this year has dramatically lessened pressure for the permits -- some have even been returned unused -- but the dip is expected to only be temporary.

Some developers have waited years to get a first-come, first-served permit. Others, like Cedar City developer Jim Burgess, say limits on the number of permits per project can render certain properties useless for building.

"The problem is when you put the prairie dogs before people's livelihoods. It's a shame," Burgess said.

But Americans made a commitment long ago to protect species that are flirting with extinction, said Lauren McCain of WildEarth Guardians, a conservation group that has fought, and sometimes sued, for prairie dog protections.

The Utah prairie dog, which lives exclusively in southern Utah and is one of five prairie dogs species in North America, still faces significant threats from development, drought, a nonnative plague and vilification by some, she said.

"This is really a species that's on the brink," McCain said.

In the 1920s there were about 95,000 Utah prairie dogs, according to rough estimates. But aggressive campaigns to eradicate them and their burrows from farms, ranches and other lands put a deep dent in the population. By the early 1970s, there were only about 3,000 left, according to federal estimates.

The population has been holding steady at about 10,000 over the last decade.

"It's been relatively stable, but better stable than a decrease," said Kate Schwager, a U.S. Fish and Wildlife biologist.

Still, with no significant increase, federal officials are retooling their management plan.

One of the changes from the last plan, written in 1991, will be less reliance on trapping prairie dogs on private property and relocating them to public lands. Last year, for instance, about 500 were relocated from the Cedar Ridge Golf Course.

The problem is that around 90 percent don't survive. Even though those that live can be effective in establishing a colony, the work "has not been as successful as we'd hoped," Schwager said.

Some prairie dogs would still be relocated under a new management plan, but federal officials also want to focus on finding private property owners who might be willing to provide a safe haven for the animals and establish colonies that can be sustained and provide genetic exchange with neighbors.

Wildlife managers are also pursuing vaccines for the plague that can devastate entire colonies and ramping up efforts to educate the public about the Utah prairie dog's important role in turning over soil, recycling nutrients and providing other important work in their natural environment.

"We really want to get people to understand, they're a keystone species," Schwager said. "They're a good thing to keep around."

Meanwhile, folks in Cedar City keep finding ways to cope. At one of the city-run softball fields, a prairie dog burrow recently popped up deep in center field. It's now surrounded by a 4-foot-high fence.

"If you hit it into there," said Bob Tate in the city's recreation department, "it's a ground-rule double."