Tracking Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Wild Birds.

Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

It has not been 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 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 seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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