Following Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping China's Endangered Songbirds.

A hidden mist net in a field
Catching and selling protected songbirds remains a profitable, illicit business.

The activist's vision darts across miles of dense fields, hunting for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

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

An activist holding a rescued songbird
Silva Gu has spent the last decade fighting to protect and free rare songbirds.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported 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 covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," 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 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 hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery 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 lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

A rare songbird perched on a branch
Birds like the Siberian rubythroat command significant sums illegally.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual 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 about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

Elderly men with caged birds
A glimpse into the longstanding trade of wildlife in local markets.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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

Music was blasting 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 multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his

Kristen Dominguez
Kristen Dominguez

A tech journalist and gaming enthusiast with over a decade of experience covering digital trends and innovations.