Silva Gu's eyes scan over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.
He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.
And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.
Trapped
Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.
They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.
There are more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.
The patch of grassland in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.
A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.
It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.
Pursuing the Poachers
This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.
"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he states.
So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.
"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.
His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.
He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."
China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.
This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.
"I decided back then to work in conservation 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 fought back.
"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.
He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.
So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.
He studies satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."
While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.
Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.
It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.
"This generation didn't even have 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 little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."
Apprehended
Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.
Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an old Beijing 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 vintage jewellery to false teeth.
We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.
Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.
But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his
