On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Wild Birds.

Silva Gu's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, searching for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered 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 rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

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

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered 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 demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos 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 during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities 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 outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens 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 often lacked enough to eat growing up. 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 little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that protected birds 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 group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions 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