In the early hours of dawn, Silva Gu stands in the fields around Beijing, ready to confront poachers who capture rare songbirds. Each year, countless birds fall victim to illegal netting, driven by a lucrative black market.
With the economic pressures stemming from the pandemic, the hunting of songbirds for pets and meat has surged. For instance, a Siberian rubythroat can fetch up to 2,000 yuan, more than what many farmers earn in a month.
I want to protect them on this Earth controlled by humans, says Silva, whose childhood passions have transformed into a lifelong mission of conservation.
As millions of migratory birds travel through China, many find sanctuary in the grasslands—not just from city infrastructure but also from poachers setting invisible traps.
During an early encounter, Silva and reporters stumble upon a mist net with a trapped meadow pipit, a protected species in China. The poacher's flee prompts Silva to use his experience in detaining them until law enforcement arrives.
This marks just a segment of Silva's significant work with the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad, a volunteer organization that he founded. Persistence has begun to yield some results—police are now more aware of the link between poaching and other forms of crime.
Despite facing dangers such as physical intimidation and dwindling volunteer ranks, Silva pushes forward. You can't do this part-time, he asserts, as he dedicates his life to rescuing birds and advocating for conservation efforts.
Illegal wildlife trade has ballooned, with estimates labeling it a $20 billion industry globally, and China being a major player. With little financial deterrence for poachers, Silva believes that changes in awareness about wildlife protection must come from future generations.
Silva's hopes lie in educating young people about China's rich wildlife and the importance of preserving it. Until then, he patrols the fields, determined to restore the songbird symphony that defined his youth in Beijing, a sound he yearns to hear once more.
