🔗 Share this article

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

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters 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 strung across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

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

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

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"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."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation 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 raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds 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 performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his