On the Trail Illegal Hunters Who Illegally Snare China's Rare Singing Birds.

Poachers' nets in tall grass
Catching and selling protected songbirds remains a profitable, illicit business.

Silva Gu's vision darts over miles of dense fields, hunting for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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 started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. 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 requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for 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 can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.

A Siberian rubythroat bird
A Siberian rubythroat can fetch a high price on the black market.

"Certain prized species 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 wildlife laws in place, Silva believes 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 people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom 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 grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted 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 adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual 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 offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

A traditional market with bird cages
An old-style market in Beijing, selling everything from crickets to caged birds.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional 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 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

Bradley Mcmillan
Bradley Mcmillan

A seasoned gaming analyst with over a decade of experience in online casino trends and player psychology.

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