Pedro Sarmento

Navarro, a male lynx, calls a female during mating season. His chances of success are now not that bad.

That's Rodrigo Serra, who coordinates the programme for reproduction in captivity across the peninsula. He explains the 1950s saw changes in the use of land for agriculture and brought with it efforts to protect cattle from predators. People were even paid to hunt them, he says. As more roads were built, runovers spiked.

Then, from the 1980s, two pandemics led to a fall of 95% in the numbers of wild rabbits, which are key in the species food chain. The Portuguese centre, down in the Algarve, is fairly remote and, as the animals hide away in their pens, it feels incredibly quiet. We are whispering because, even though we are some 200 metres away, our presence is stressing the animals.

Rodrigo says sometimes that's exactly what they need.

Alcutin, on the border with Spain, is one of the places where lynxes are released. Pedro Sarmento, who has studied them for 30 years, waits by a main road, the kind that kills lynxes often.

These sounds of a man calling her cubs have been captured by the camera traps set to track lynxes and their behaviour. Looking through the footage, we can see some were here just this morning. The team says there's three main reasons why the conservation programme has worked. International collaboration, improvement of numbers of prey and raising awareness with the population.

Biologist Pedro Sarmento, again. I saw the species get lost.