Tracking Illegal Hunters Who Illegally Snare China's Rare Singing Birds.

Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of tall grassland, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to southern locales to breed and eat.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes 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 command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not exceed 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. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display 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 grasp 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 some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. 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 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 sales because the police had appeared. 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