🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across miles of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

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

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been 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 accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines 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 hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity 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 elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed 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 trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells 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 established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three 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. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his