🔗 Share this article

Silva Gu's vision darts across miles of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to warmer places to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

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 decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

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 challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those 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 hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for 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 reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. 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 educate people 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 tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

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

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered 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 recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his