I counted it as a real privilege when trust field manager Barry Pethybridge took me under his wing and showed me the coal face of the fightback against predators such as rats, possums and stoats.
The understorey of this once pristine forest that had stood for a millennia in fortress New Zealand wilted to the onslaught of these introduced pests. When all looked lost and the last kiwi egg had been munched open, a bunch of determined volunteers decided to take a stand.
"It's amazing how things can bounce back, kaka have come back in big numbers, and they hadn't been seen for years," Pethybridge says.
Although the 500ha being protected by bait stations and traps is just a thumbnail on the map of the Kaimai Forest Park, its location is strategic because it sits behind Aongatete Lodge, which has introduced thousands of Bay people to the great outdoors.
When you consider what was at stake - the forest canopy dying with little growing up underneath to replace it - the achievements at Aongatete have been nothing short of inspirational.
As Pop Larkin said in HE Bates' famous Darling Buds novel of rural England, it seemed "perfick". The novel's philosophy to not fret about the little things in life transplanted perfectly into the efforts of volunteers who single-mindedly fixed their minds on the big picture of combating alien ravages in our native forest.
What they achieved has been amazing - even the little rifleman is now flitting among the branches after being extinct in the area.
The other side of the coin is that there can be no respite because the block is surrounded on three sides by forest where pest control is minimal. All the good work could be undone quickly if spirits flag.
Pethybridge, an agile 68, says the protection of the forest needed more volunteers to take the place of older members who were climbing into their 80s and getting ready to call it a day - proof that baiting stations and setting traps was seldom arduous.
My experience as an unfit person leaving middle age is that the physical effort is not onerous. And neither is the commitment.
Pethybridge explains that volunteers usually take ownership of their own lines, consisting of about 30 bait stations marked by pink ribbons that returned to the main track. You'd have to be blind to get lost.
BAITS are only renewed four times a year and there are periodic trapping campaigns against possums. Rats are targeted because they feast on eggs, attack chicks and eat the seeds upon which regeneration of the forest depended.
The success of the baiting is clearly evident by the plants growing up through the ground litter.
The other good news is that trapping had made a huge dent in the stoat population, with the 90 traps now catching a mere six to eight stoats a year.
Pethybridge says the absence of predators and browsers meant geckos, weta and other creepy crawlies are returning, along with ground-nesting birds. The overall ecology is changing so dramatically that even colourful displays of toadstools are springing up.
"It's amazing how things can bounce back," he says.
The other compelling reason why Forest and Bird and the trust want to boost the number of volunteers is to fulfil stage two of their plans - to double the size of the protected forest to 1000ha.
"We badly need someone to run the whole show," he says.
Hunters keep deer and pig populations down and the trust is trying to sort out feral cats.
"We need Gareth Morgan to come on board," Pethybridge says, with a chuckle.
Ironically for someone who has caught predators all his life, Pethybridge respects the intelligence and agility of possums. "That's why we can't get rid of them."'
He once farmed possums in the early 1980s when New Zealand farming was diversifying in all directions.
"I never thought all that information in my head would ever come to the fore again."
He would love to release kokako and saddleback into the forest, but their ambitions do not extend to kiwi.
The mournful call of the last 50-year-old-plus kiwi still occasionally echoes through the forest.
Reintroducing kiwi involved too much drama and involved costs that the two organisations simply could not afford, he said.
"It's such a sad thing, that last kiwi."
