One hundred and fifty. This is the number of people that can squeeze into three buses or comfortably fill a small movie theatre. One hundred and fifty is the reason I am in China. It is the total number of Skywalker gibbons that make up an entire species. Named for their ability to swing acrobatically in the canopy heavens, these charismatic, singing apes are isolated to fragmented forests in Yunnan province. Neighbouring the Myanmar border, Yunnan boasts towering mountains, sprawling marigold fields and many colourful ethnic minorities. The forest is fast disappearing due to an ever-expanding human population. Combined with illegal hunting, the gibbons are on the brink of extinction. To protect these small apes, I work closely with local communities and reserve management surrounding the last remaining gibbon stronghold. I immerse myself into village life, building trust and joining hard-working women as they dance away their physical and mental aches of the day. I assist with homework and sip tangy herb tea on small wooden stools around family fires. The warmth from the fire is nothing compared to my hosts’ generosity. Mister Xian was a reserve manager who chaperoned me around a cluster of villages, allowing me to interview people about natural resources and gibbons. He wore a black polyester suit with a crisp, white shirt. He pampered himself with sweet aftershave which tingled my nostrils. His professional demeanour was intimidating. Chinese socialising revolves around food. Every day is a culinary adventure, both good and bad. On my last day in the region, he and six of his male colleagues, invited me to a restaurant. Despite my best efforts to engage him in conversation about gibbon conservation management, I was yet to succeed. He ordered duck, a sign of wealth and generosity. The Chinese never waste anything; something which many of us could learn from. The bowl therefore arrived with an entire duck carcass. One webbed foot drooping over the side and the loose head bobbing in the broth. My assistant smacked his lips in delight and quickly reached for the duck's head before anyone else could steal his prize. I watched in awe as he chomped down on the beak and then artfully peeled back the scalp with his teeth. Realising I was gawping, he invited me to try the brain. "Eek! Why not!" I heard myself say. The brain was smaller than you would imagine, and I couldn’t help wondering how an animal could function with such a tiny organ. I probed my wooden chopsticks inside the skull and picked out a mushed, grey segment. It tasted like liver pâté. "Not bad!" I announced. The whole table had stopped eating and were smirking at me. "You are very special, Tang Yuan." said Mister Xian as he filled my small glass with Baijiu, potent Chinese rice wine. Tang Yuan is my Chinese name. "Try this." He challenged me. As it is customary, I gulped back the entire contents. The liquid burnt my throat as it trickled down, leaving a spicy aftertaste. I was then offered the famous 100-year old egg. Supposedly, 500 years ago a farmer found preserved duck eggs in a muddy pool of water containing calcium hydroxide. He hatched the idea of making this egg himself. Fermented in strong black tea, lime, salt, and freshly burnt ashes, the eggs are left for two to five months (not a century!). Once "brewed", the egg white has a black congealed consistency and the yolk is a dark gooey green. Not for the faint-hearted! Having already visited China, I’ve learnt that you should never trust an egg. I once bit into what I thought was a hard-boiled egg only to discover a half-developed chick inside – feathers and all! The crunch gave it away. Although it had no pungent smell, I was still repulsed by the appearance of this aged egg. I dipped a segment into some chilli sauce and popped it into my gob. It was chewy and tasted like rotten eggs, but it was bearable. "What's next?" I mumbled whilst hastily swallowing my mouthful. The table erupted into laughter. “Next, we talk gibbons.” Mister Xian said as he put his chopsticks down and gave me his full attention.