Tracking Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping China's Rare Wild Birds.

Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a muted voice as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, 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 ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed 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 discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. 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 slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed 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 adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought 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. Nearby several men, all in their later years, 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 transactions 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