In the Amazon's heart, the tiger's cry rings,
Through dense foliage, it hunts, it springs.
Devouring its catch with a dancer's grace,
Yet, in the wild, it's losing its place.

Once a chance to glimpse its stripes was fair,
From ten to two percent, a loss too hard to bear.
As hunters' guns lift, their echoes grim,
A hundred thousand strong, now prospects dim.

Just ten thousand left, then four thousand five,
Where once they thrived, now they struggle to survive.
Six subspecies remain, under three thousand each,
Three lost forever, beyond our reach.

The tiger's...