🔗 Share this article Following Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture China's Rare Singing Birds. Trapping and selling rare birds is a high-profit, low-risk venture for some. Silva Gu's eyes scan across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom. He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning. And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here. Snared In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter. They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to warmer places to find food and shelter. There are 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China. This particular field in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete. It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can almost miss them. A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled. This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem. Hunting the Hunters This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously. "Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he says. So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations. "We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform. For ten years, Silva Gu has worked tirelessly to rescue endangered birds. His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city. He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from 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 habitats they supported. "I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says. It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated. "He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice. He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job. "This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time." He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation. So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters. He examines aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds during darkness. A Siberian rubythroat can fetch a high price on the black market. "Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent." While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds. Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds. It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens 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. "These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice 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 formed, they're really hard to change." Apprehended On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds. A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs 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 created their own market. 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 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 in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric. But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his