🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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 nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his