Tracking Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping China's Rare Wild Birds.
Silva Gu's vision darts across miles of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.
He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.
And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.
Snared
Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.
They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.
The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.
The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge 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 thin you can almost miss them.
The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.
This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.
Hunting the Hunters
Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.
"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.
So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.
"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.
This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.
He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."
China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.
This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.
"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.
This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.
"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.
He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires 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 made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned 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' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."
Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.
Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.
It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.
"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice 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."
Busted
Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.
Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.
The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.
Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.
Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop 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 concealed by dark cloth.
But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his