On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Songbirds.
Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.
He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.
Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.
Snared
In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.
They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to southern locales to breed and eat.
China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.
The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can barely see them.
The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.
This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.
Hunting the Hunters
The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.
"In the early days, there was little interest," he states.
So he gathered a team who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.
"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.
Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.
He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."
China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.
The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.
"I made the choice 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 found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.
"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.
He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."
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 analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths created 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 at night.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."
While there are environmental regulations 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 people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.
This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."
Apprehended
On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.
A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders 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 false teeth.
We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.
Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.
But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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