Following Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping China's Rare Singing Birds.

A hidden mist net in a field
The illegal trade in songbirds is a lucrative underground market.

Silva Gu's eyes scan over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten 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 palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

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

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

An activist holding a rescued songbird
A decade of dedication has gone into Silva Gu's mission to save migratory birds.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," 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 fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails worn away 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 netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.

A Siberian rubythroat bird
The rare Siberian rubythroat is a valuable target for poachers.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," 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 reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed 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 Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked 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 no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

Elderly men with caged birds
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 sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, 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 interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his

Tiffany Delgado
Tiffany Delgado

Lena is a savvy shopper and deal expert who loves sharing money-saving strategies and bonus tips from her global travels.