🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, hunting for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

This particular field in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 "barely visible nets", so fine you can barely see them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy 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 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 fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

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

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," 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 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 track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He maps those 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 during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

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

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. 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 over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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