🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his