Following Poachers That Illegally Capture the Nation's Endangered Singing Birds.

A trapped songbird in a net
Trapping and selling rare birds is a high-profit, low-risk venture for some.

The activist's vision darts across miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty 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 take this crime seriously.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out 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 started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

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

A rare songbird perched on a branch
A Siberian rubythroat can fetch a high price on the black market.

"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."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens 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 often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs 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
A traditional market scene where various animals, including birds, are sold.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. 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

Felicia Richard
Felicia Richard

A tech enthusiast and gaming strategist with over a decade of experience in digital content creation and community building.