Sun, Sea, Trapping
"Have an amazing time!"
"Oooo you're going to get a lovely tan."
"Rather there than here!"
These were just a few comments in response to my plan of heading to Cyprus for two weeks. Unfortunately, it was for a much darker reason and a decent tan was at the very bottom of my agenda.
6th January, 2018.
Sat in Gatwick departure lounge with a rush of anxiety, I was awaiting to board my flight to Larnaca. I was heading to a completely new country with an intense two weeks lined up. For this was no holiday but more a undercover operation, for I was about to become a member of the Committee Against Bird Slaughter. It was a role I had wanted to fill for a few years and my time sat behind a keyboard, commenting rather than taking action, was over. I was heading into the field.
Meeting up with our leader, Bostjan (L E G E N D) myself and Alistair, a fellow CABS newbie, were thrown into the world of illegal trapping. After scoffing our faces on the way to the villa, we were told what to expect from the next two weeks of these operations and boy was it a mixture of excitement, trepidation and concern. I had no idea what to expect from this camp.
2am. Pitch black. Wet feet. Mud, so much mud. Yet all of this is at the back of my mind as I am stood opposite my first trapping site.
I don't think I'll ever forget my first net. Standing 2 metres high and stretching over 18ft, I'm overwhelmed at the simplicity of such a cruel device. We investigate 2 nets straddling a small group of trees in the middle of a wheat field, a haven for any fatigued bird looking to roost, eagerly enticed by the fraudulent bird songs being played through speakers. We cannot risk alerting anyone to our location so we work in the dark, only guided by the strength of the full moon beaming across the land. Silhouetted at eye level, are small undefined masses in the nets, using all their might to break free. Song Thrushes. My heart telling me to rip up the nets and grab the birds, my head telling me to halt, I await to hear the decision from Bostjan as to what we should do. With the lack of surrounding bushes to run to if we were spotted, we decide to head to Dhekelia police station to report the site. It's beyond painful to leave the birds behind, but I promise them we will be back.
It was always frustrating when we were told we weren't allowed to join the police in taking down a site. You want to see it through until the end, and witness yourself the dismantling of these death traps but it was always a lottery as to who the sergeant would be on the night and their call was the final one. Although being left behind, we had the feeling of accomplishment knowing that those birds would be saved and their would be two fewer nets in the world.
Moving on to the next site, we soon came across yet another caller. Me and Bostjan were dropped at the site, Alistair taking on the responsibility of waiting somewhere safe until he got our call. It's a tense wait, I tell you! Heading across yet more mud and uneven fields, my feet swiftly drowning in the dew my boots had collected, we see it. Stretching high into the sky, another net. But this time along with a small light. We cannot get closer, it's too risky . We take note of the site number and make our way back to the road only to hear the distant calls of yet another two callers. This place is on fire.
Within this small area we were surrounded by trapping sites, unaware of just how many birds had been caught throughout the night. Trying as hard as we could to be stealthy, we followed the callers only to be noticed by a persistent guard dog, who made me jump from my skin with its incessant barking. Now I adore dogs, I really do, but never have I wanted one to shut up more. On edge and nervously approaching closer and closer to the site, silence fell. The not so good kind. The caller had been switched off....manually. The trapper was there, watching us as we gained ground towards his illegal hub. It was a sinking feeling like no other, the thought of this man watching us from afar, not knowing what he was capable of filled me with even more trepidation. Was he alone? Was there a gang? Did he have a gun? How fast could I run? All of these questions rushing through my mind. We had to turn our backs, my heart breaking for the birds we had to leave behind. As we gained distance from the site, the caller came back on. The sheer nerve of the trapper playing with us, knowing we couldn't raid his site, replaced the anxiety within me with anger and fire.
6am. My first night over, I sat watching dawn fast approach in the mediterranean sky, many people unaware of the illegalities taking place behind their all inclusive villas and hotels. Hearing the bird calls, for real this time, was a sound I blissfully lay down to, resting for the coming night ahead.
