🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's eyes scan over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

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

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate 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 small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not conservation areas 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 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 confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

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

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop 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 on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his