🔗 Share this article Following Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping the Nation's Endangered Wild Birds. Catching and selling protected songbirds remains a profitable, illicit business. Silva Gu's vision darts across vast expanses of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom. He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing. Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present. Trapped Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter. They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to breed and eat. The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China. The area of meadow where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete. It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can almost miss them. The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared. It 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 This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue. "In the early days, no-one cared," he says. So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity. "It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform. A decade of dedication has gone into Silva Gu's mission to save migratory birds. This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing. He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed." Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to conserve. This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported. "I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says. This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated. "He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable. He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job. "This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, 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 economic situation. So he has developed new ways to track the poachers. He examines satellite imagery to find the routes created 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. A Siberian rubythroat can fetch a high price on the black market. "Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy." Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds. Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds. This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird. "This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change." Apprehended Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds. Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in 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. An old-style market in Beijing, selling everything from crickets to caged birds. The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth. We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed. Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric. But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. 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