On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Singing Birds.

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

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

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

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to breed and eat.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 "fine nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, 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" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation 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 assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands 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 solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails 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 netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh 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 imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, 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 black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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