On the Trail Illegal Hunters Who Illegally Snare China's Endangered Songbirds.

Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. 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 haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed 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 did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. 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 beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He maps those 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.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

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

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

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his