At the end of a very long night, he still has to play the waiting game. When will the police finally arrive? Will the bird hunters come to the field with the sound lure, or have they perhaps been warned? The uncertainty may be wearing on the nerves, but Milan Ružić is experienced enough not to let it rattle him. Milan, Managing Director of our Serbian partner organisation, Bird Protection and Study Society of Serbia (BPSSS), is now in his eleventh ‘quail hunting season’. He has already got a lot of experience under his belt.
My colleague, migratory bird project manager, Dr Justine Vansynghel, and I are privileged to accompany Milan's team for one night. We will experience how the Serbian bird conservationists track down illegal decoys, we will listen intently to all the noises of the night, we will hide amongst the tobacco fields, ambush poachers and finally call the police. It will be a night full of new experiences - and a night with very little sleep. In the end, we will have saved the lives of many quails.
Milan Ružić and colleagues in action at night
Where will they be patrolling tonight? Milan Ružić discusses the procedure for the coming hours with his colleagues from BPSSS and EuroNatur project manager Justine Vansynghel.
9 p.m.: Briefing in the office of our Serbian partners from BPSSS in Novi Sad. Managing Director Milan Ružić checks the Facebook profiles of some of the country's well-known hunters. Have they announced a possibly illegal hunting operation for the coming morning? Soon we are clicking through the various profiles together, some of the pictures are hard to bear. Like big game hunters, the men pose proudly in front of birds they have shot. In addition to quails, for example, various species of snipe and pigeons can be recognised, including turtle doves, which have suffered a dramatic population decline in recent years and are subject to a strict hunting ban in Serbia.
I am amazed at how openly the hunters boast about their trophies. The sheer size of the hunt alone shows that many bird hunters must have violated the hunting laws currently in force. The poachers include a celebrated opera singer who has performed in the world's major opera houses. For him Facebook is like another stage where he can brag about his ‘hunting successes’ in Serbia. The case is an example of how corrupt the system in Serbia is. The opera singer from the Middle East has excellent relations with the Serbian elite and has no need to worry about prosecution. ‘People like him feel untouchable,’ says Milan in frustration, switching off his PC and rounding up his colleagues from BPSSS.
It's Friday evening and it will be the first night of this year's quail hunting season. Milan and his colleagues, as well as Justine and I, are torn between curiosity and nervous tension: what can we expect? ‘No two nights are the same,’ says Milan; we should be prepared for anything. He gives us some final instructions, shows us on a map which routes we'll be travelling today, then we split into two teams and off we go.
The extensive agricultural plains in the north of Serbia are a favoured resting area on the quails’ migration route. This game bird, more or less the size of a blackbird, is the only long-distance migrant of its family in Europe. During the quail’s autumn migration to the African wintering grounds, it is generally permitted to be hunted in the Mediterranean region, but the use of sound lures is not. With the help of this illegal method, the number of quails shot is increasing considerably. In Serbia, it is estimated that there are 70,000 individuals a year, twice as many as can be shot using legal hunting methods. This represents an immense loss for the species, which is already endangered in Central Europe due to the loss of its habitat. Apart from local hunters, Serbia is also popular with foreign hunting tourists, especially from Italy, Cyprus and Malta, but also from Germany. Domestic and foreign hunting companies offer favourable prices for quail shoots and those who are prepared to pay more are allowed to shoot even more.
Hotspot of quail poaching
10 pm: I'm sitting in a car with Dr Justine Vansynghel, Milan Ružić and Damir Trnovac. Damir is actually responsible for bear conservation projects at BPSSS, but supporting the night-time search for sound lures is a point of honour for him. Damir and Milan are a well-established team. We drive out of Novi Sad in a south-easterly direction, the lights of the motorway gliding past us. After a while, we find ourselves on smaller roads and finally Damir turns off onto a field track. On the map on his smartphone, Milan has marked the places where he and his colleagues have found lures in recent years. Over time, a dense network of locations has emerged. ‘Many poachers return to the same spots again and again,’ says Milan.
Damir stops the car and counts to ten. Before we get out, we have to allow time for the dust stirred up by the pick-up to settle. ‘Otherwise, we'll be coughing all night,’ says Damir with a laugh. Milan and Damir listen for decoys, cupping their hands over their ears to funnel the sound. Nothing. Let's move on!
On the alert for quail calls from the tape at night: Milan and Damir are experienced in knowing what to listen out for.
The same procedure in the next field. That night we have the so-called supermoon. The huge celestial body bathes the flat, parched landscape of Vojvodina in milky light. Suddenly Milan imitates the sounds of mice – it is amazingly realistic. ‘It attracts owls, sometimes they almost fly right into your face.’ Justine and I were reluctant to believe it, but then one of the nocturnal birds actually approached us and only turned away when it realised that there was nothing to be had here. ‘A bit of fun, I don't do this too often,’ says Milan with a wink.
We don't hear anything at the next stop either. Although you can't really say that as the night is actually full of noises: a bird calls here, a deer there; a car can be heard driving past on the road, the barking of dogs from the farm reaches us, which is eventually joined by the howling of a jackal. We listen in vain for the lure sounds designed to attract quails. The landscape seems peaceful; it's hard to imagine that this region in Europe is supposed to be one of the hotspots for quail hunting. But it is a bitter reality: from mid-August to early September, a bird massacre takes place every year on the harvested fields of Vojvodina.
The quail hunters don't shoot the birds for food, but mainly for fun. They call it sport, but it's actually a slaughter.
Milan Ružić, BPSSS
An exhausting night
1.30 a.m.: We have already driven several kilometres in the dark, stopping at countless field edges, but have not been able to find any decoys. This is good news, of course, because it means that the hunting pressure is easing a little. ‘The landscape here used to be literally covered in decoys,’ Milan tells us during the journey. ‘At some locations, the devices were active around the clock throughout August and September, and the effects were devastating.’ Milan Ružić assumes that each sound lure attracts around 100 quails, which are then shot. An enormous death toll for the entire European population.
We keep ourselves awake with coffee and energy drinks, the bags of crisps rustle, the jokes become flatter. Damir and Milan pass the time between the places where we stop and listen to rock classics, ‘Highway to Quail’ being one of them.
Justine and I nod off from time to time in the back seat, but when Milan spots a barn owl on one of the posts along the road, we are wide awake again for a moment. A little later, we meet up with the second team. The bird conservationists report that they have located a sound lure and have also had contact with poachers. The poachers reacted harshly and eventually fled with the decoy. Everything happened too quickly to call the police. The job our partners are doing in Serbia has its dangers.
A secretive and endangered game bird
It is rare to encounter a quail quite so frequently (here in Italy)...
The quail (Coturnix coturnix), the smallest bird of the order of Galliformes in Europe, leads a secretive life in meadows and fields. The chances of hearing it are far higher than seeing it. At the breeding sites in spring and summer, the three-syllable quail call can be heard over long distances, a rhythmically repeated ‘peck-werwick’. The quail is the only European member of Galliformes that migrates over long-distances. In the past, thousands could be seen migrating along the coasts of the Mediterranean, but today there are far fewer. In addition to intensive hunting, the loss of habitat in Central Europe is a particular problem for these birds.
In late summer, many such sound lures are set up in Serbia's fields to attract the migrating quail flocks. They are powered from car or lorry batteries and can therefore run all night. In the meantime, many quail hunters have switched to burying most of the equipment in the ground, making it more difficult for bird conservationists to locate them.
4.30 a.m.: By now all four car occupants are tired, our night without sleep is seemingly endless. We stop again at the edge of a field, listen - and this time we make a find! We can clearly hear the familiar quail call from the field: The fast, rhythmic, repeated ‘BÜT bülÜT’ sounds are unmistakable. It reaches our ears with an intensity and persistence that leaves no doubt: The calls are coming from a tape.
Just as we are about to get out, Milan spots car lights. A tractor approaches and finally stops on the other side of the field, followed by a minibus. Are they the poachers? In any case, nobody gets out of the vehicles. We wait a while longer, then decide that Damir and I should look for the sound lure as inconspicuously as possible and take a closer look at the system. If the decoy systems, which are usually powered by a car battery, are easy to hear from a distance, they are deafening up close. As Damir and I make our way back to the car, the decoy system suddenly switches off. Milan assumes that the people in the tractor or van - if they are not the bird hunters themselves - have warned the owner of the decoy. The newer models can now be conveniently operated from home using a smartphone. The four of us are a little undecided about what to do now.
Good cop, bad cop
Milan Ružić calls the local police as the sun gradually rises on the horizon.
5.45 a.m.: We have been observing the farmland for almost an hour from our car, which we have parked on a narrow path between two tobacco fields in order to be less obtrusive. Everything remains quiet, no sign of the poachers. Milan finally decides to call the police. If the quail hunters do turn up, they will be caught red-handed; if not, the police will at least confiscate the decoy.
However, the conversation with the policeman on duty is unsatisfactory. Milan tells us that due to a lack of staff and an imminent shift change, no one can come; moreover, the sound lure is no longer in use, so it is not an illegal offence. Milan is familiar with such excuses. With all his experience, he insists on a police operation, as this is a case of illegal hunting. The phone call ends ambiguously and not exactly amicably. Milan Ružić suspects that the police officer he spoke to is either a quail hunter himself or knows the owner of the sound lure and wants to protect him. ‘Sometimes it's frustrating. But there are also very dedicated police officers who really investigate the matter,’ adds Damir.
The long night is getting to us all, and the uncertain wait for the police doesn't make it any better. We doze off again and again. When the sun finally rises, there is no sign of poachers or law enforcement officers, but at least we can now watch the birds. Caspian gulls, yellow wagtails and marsh harriers fly overhead. Milan draws our attention to a hoopoe and Justine spots a lesser grey shrike.
Milan and Damir show the two policemen where we discovered the sound lures.
7.15 a.m.: Finally, two young policemen arrive. They listen to Milan's explanations, carry out a ‘crime scene inspection’, confiscate the sound lure, question the farmers and their labourers who have started harvesting in the early hours of the morning. Milan confirms the positive impression Justine and I had gained from afar. ‘Co-operation is usually better with the young police officers. Many of them are motivated and genuinely interested in uncovering wildlife crime, even if, like these two, they've never heard of it before.’
8 o'clock: The last stop of this long night is the police station in the small town of Inđija. While Milan files a report against unknown persons in one of the offices and provides the police officers with information about quail hunting, Justine, Damir and I sit outside in the corridor. We are now completely overcome by fatigue and nod off, exhausted but with a satisfying feeling: After all, we have saved the lives of many quails that night and spoilt the morning of at least one bird hunter.
While waiting for the police, there was time for a photo in the tobacco fields.
EuroNatur project manager Dr Justine Vansynghel and Christian Stielow, the author of this article, travelled to Serbia together to see the work of Milan Ružić and his dedicated colleagues from BPSSS as well as of the volunteer bird conservationists. The two recommend bringing clothing for hot weather when travelling to Serbia at the end of August and postponing a visit to the beautiful old town of Novi Sad until the early morning or evening hours.
