🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's vision darts over miles of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, 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 "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He remembers exploring 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 expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. 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 reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on 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 give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading 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 ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous 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 a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his