Tracking Poachers That Illegally Capture China's Endangered Singing Birds.

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

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

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

Snared

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

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred 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 haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to escape, 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 "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

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

"I decided 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 retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators 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 prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project 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 funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails worn away 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 scores of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. 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 alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional 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 recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his