On the Trail Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping China's Protected Songbirds.

Silva Gu's eyes scan across vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows 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 supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means 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 sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized 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 catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, 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 simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny 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 those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on 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 cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers 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 studies satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these 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 catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," 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 reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations 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 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 caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity 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 trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. 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. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his