Following Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Endangered Singing Birds.

Silva Gu's eyes scan over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries 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 took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky 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 give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. 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 caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages 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 about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

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

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his