🔗 Share this article On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture China's Protected Singing Birds. Trapping and selling rare birds is a high-profit, low-risk venture for some. The activist's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness. He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath. Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here. Snared Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter. They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to warmer places to nest and feed. China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China. The patch of grassland 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 "mist nets", so thin you can hardly spot them. A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled. This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its environment. Tracking the Trappers Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. 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. "Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks. So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations. "We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform. For ten years, Silva Gu has worked tirelessly to rescue endangered birds. This fascination with birds began during 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 discovered 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 considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve. The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed. "I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," 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 accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice. He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky 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 give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted." He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy. So he has found new ways to track the poachers. He studies satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds at night. The rare Siberian rubythroat is a valuable target for poachers. "Certain prized species 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 argues the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds. Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds. It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet. "This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change." Apprehended Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds. Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan. This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade. A traditional market scene where various animals, including birds, are sold. The path by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth. We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find. 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 over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth. But on this occasion there would be no transactions 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