🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes worn away 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 netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed 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. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 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 sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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