Before dawn on the outskirts of Beijing, Silva Gu moves quietly through tall grass, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. Behind him, the city is still asleep. Ahead, the faint sound of footsteps signals what he has been waiting for: bird poachers setting their traps.
For more than a decade, Silva has devoted his life to protecting migratory songbirds from illegal hunting. Working in near silence, he leads the way into a clearing where nearly invisible mist nets stretch across the field. These nets are designed to trap small birds during migration, ensnaring them as they fly low at night.
Every year, tens of thousands of birds are caught this way across China, either to be sold as pets or for meat. The practice has become more common as economic pressures mount. With limited investment and relatively low risk, poaching can be highly profitable. Rare songbirds such as the Siberian rubythroat can fetch close to 2,000 yuan on the black market, more than many rural workers earn in a month.
For Silva, the motivation is deeply personal. He says birds represent freedom and balance in a world increasingly shaped by human activity. Growing up in Beijing in the 1990s, he remembers open grasslands teeming with wildlife. Rapid urbanisation in the following decades erased much of that habitat, pushing birds and other species to the margins.
China lies at the heart of several major migratory routes, with more than 800 migratory bird species passing through the country each year. During autumn, the skies become crowded as birds travel south from Siberia and Mongolia toward warmer regions. Fields near Beijing offer one of the few remaining resting places, making them prime targets for poachers.
On this particular morning, a small finch struggles in a net just meters away. As Silva approaches, a poacher tries to flee, tossing several birds into the air before running. Silva blocks his path and calls the police, using calm persistence rather than force. Officers arrive later and take the suspect into custody.
Silva’s work is unpaid and often dangerous. He funds patrols with personal savings and small donations, spending sleepless nights tracking illegal activity. In 2015, few authorities took bird poaching seriously. To change that, he formed the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad, gathering volunteers and engaging police and forestry officials. Over time, enforcement improved as officers realised poaching networks often overlap with other criminal activity.
The risks are real. Silva recalls being beaten by a group linked to a major bird dealer after uncovering illegal operations. Many volunteers eventually left, unable to sustain the physical and emotional toll. Despite this, Silva continues, adapting his methods by analysing satellite images to identify trap locations and migratory stopovers.
The demand for caged birds is rooted in tradition. For generations, keeping songbirds symbolised status and leisure, especially among older men. Silva believes many buyers are unaware they are supporting illegal wildlife trade or the scale of harm involved.
Although China has wildlife protection laws, penalties often fail to outweigh the profits of poaching. Still, there are signs of progress. Recent nationwide campaigns have targeted illegal bird markets, and state media has emphasised the ecological importance of protecting wild birds. Large-scale arrests this year suggest growing official concern.
Silva remains cautiously optimistic. Over the past ten years, he has helped rescue more than 20,000 birds and dismantle countless nets. He believes lasting change will come as younger generations develop greater awareness of conservation and biodiversity.
Until then, he will continue his nightly patrols during migration season, hoping to restore the sound of birdsong to Beijing’s skies and preserve what remains of the natural world he remembers from childhood.