Flesh hangs by the ankles, the undipped weakness, skinned and roasted. The butcher with his heavy oxidizing knife swinging overhead through bone and marrow. He passes me two pounds of duck in a plastic bag. If you're a conservationist all you need is a two day class to get a rifle license. You can start shooting things that afternoon.
Pristine areas are never one hundred percent pristine.
There are threats to the rarities. Tiger claw passion vines that spiral up one hundred year old trees. They have claws grasping out of nodes along their length that grips the bark. They take the trees down. Waiwi, the sweet tasting strawberry guava, poisons the soil so only their kind can proliferate.