On the Trail Poachers Illegally Trapping the Nation's Rare Songbirds.

A hidden mist net in a field
Catching and selling protected songbirds remains a profitable, illicit business.

The conservationist's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, hunting for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, 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 northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to southern locales to breed and eat.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

A conservationist inspecting a bird
Silva Gu has spent the last decade fighting to protect and free rare songbirds.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

A Siberian rubythroat bird
Birds like the Siberian rubythroat command significant sums illegally.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors 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 area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his

Gregory Kramer
Gregory Kramer

A passionate storyteller with a knack for weaving imaginative tales that captivate and inspire audiences worldwide.