Following Poachers Illegally Trapping China's Endangered Wild Birds.

Silva Gu's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. 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 can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted 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 formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. 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