Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.
He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.
Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.
Caught
Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.
They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.
There are 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.
The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.
The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, 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.
Tracking the Trappers
This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.
"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.
So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.
"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.
This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.
He recalls wandering in the grasslands 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.
The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.
"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.
This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.
"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went 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 requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many 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 give it your all. You can't do it part-time."
He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 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 studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."
While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.
Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations 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 continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed 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 tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.
Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly 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 created their own market.
The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.
Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.
Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.
But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his
