On the Trail Poachers Who Illegally Snare the Nation's Endangered Wild Birds.

Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

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

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands 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 treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery 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 satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," 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 believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh 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 Qing dynasty. 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 some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. 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 informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan 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 dark cloth.

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