THE intrepid wildlife director Qiao Qiao spends most of the year living in the wild, shooting both inspirational and disturbing microfilms that show how reckless development ravages China's environment and its animals. Hu Min reports.

Terrified antelope run in panic after sand-digging machines move through their grasslands. Dead birds hang entangled in high-voltage wires. A Przewalski's gazelle in a cage desperately bangs on the bars with its antlers.

There are bulldozers, trucks, fishing trawlers, skyscrapers, smoke-belching factories, foul sewage and effluent, burning smog, rubbish floating in toxic rivers, farmlands plowed under to urban sprawl - all driving wildlife from its habitats.

These are among the scenes in "Lost," a 12-minute 21-second film by 28-year-old director Qiao Qiao who immerses himself in nature and dedicates his life to shooting often shocking wildlife microfilms. The aim is to raise public awareness about environmental devastation and the need to protect wildlife.

"Humans are sacrificing the eco system when developing the economy," Beijing-based Qiao tells Shanghai Daily in a recent interview. "I turn my lens on animals, but I focus on people, actually, since they are behind the scenes and responsible for pushing some wildlife to the verge of extinction."

"Lost" was released last December and its 12 minutes were distilled from more than 2,000 hours. It got more than 1 million clicks and more than 100,000 comments in a short time after it was uploaded onto the video sharing website youku.com.

It is an uncompromising film and, not surprisingly, Qiao has trouble finding sponsors among big enterprises, developers and mining companies.

There is no dialogue, only music. The animals are the leading actors, humans play secondary roles of destroyers as they mine, cut forests, fish, pollute, build dams, construct unplanned cities, hunt and otherwise despoil the land.

The film opens with the shrill cries of terns, a lament.

There is no script as such but the "story" begins on the Tibetan Plateau, a once-pristine land of sapphire skies, green mountains, windswept grasslands, crystal water. Soon, it will be defiled. The antelope will run.

"I always dreamed of being an animal in the wild, with a simple life," says Qiao who was born in a village in Central China (he won't say where) and remembers growing up with green fields, clean water, fish and birds.

"Humans are too cruel. Now I am dedicated to shooting films about animals and I can never stop making films."

He sold his apartment in Beijing and his car to get started making his film, which took five years.

Qiao spends most of his time in the wild with animals, following them unobtrusively, knowing them intuitively and capturing their moods and movements.

The pressing issue is how to balance environmental protection with responsible human activity and urban developing.

The topic of rampant urbanization and destruction of the environment is a sensitive one in China where growth is an imperative and GDP is a powerful incentive at all levels. Officials are evaluated in large part by how they increase local GDP. The choices are stark.

When he graduated from the Beijing Film Academy, Qiao and a dedicated team of five immediately rushed to the wetlands in the middle and lower reachers of the Yellow River to begin their "Lost" project.

Today, only one of the team remains - after a while, the other four found the work too exhausting and unremitting, and the pay Qiao could afford was next to nothing.

Qiao understands: Not everyone can sacrifice their life for a noble microfilm project. Today he works alone with one friend and assistant.

Photographing wildlife effectively is extremely difficult. They are unpredictable and cannot be manipulated to follow a script. Luck is essential.

At first Qiao didn't know in which direction birds would fly and so he wasted film. Now he's more nature-savvy, but he still cannot be sure.

"It is not easy to spot wildlife, and sometimes it is late in the day when you spot them and start filming," he says. "We can wander for hours with 50 kilograms of equipment on our back."

He camps in a small tent, rises before dawn, treks all day, crossing meadows, wetlands, forests, mountains and deserts.

Because of the difficulty in filming, there are very few authentic wildlife films in China, he said.

"I wanted to shoot a real wildlife film," he explained.

Over the past five years, Qiao has done some commercial work and advertising to support his costly project and pay off debt.

He has also made short films such as "Nest," about human and swallows coexisting in harmony - without humans ravaging the birds' cliff habitats and taking their nutritious saliva nests to make bird's nest soup, a famous tonic and delicacy. This forces the birds to build another nest from their saliva, and another after that one is destroyed.

His film "Lost," "Nest" and others have been praised.

"We could be that [reincarnated] bird or fish appearing in the film after we die, and I thank Qiao and his team for their persistence," said Jack Ma, former chairman of the Alibaba Group, on his Weibo account.

From Tibetan Plateau to the Tengger Desert in the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Regio, Qiao does not feel lonely.

During one Mid-autumn Festival he was on the banks of the Yellow River.

"Lying in the arms of the Yellow River, I join the wildlife to celebrate the festival," Qiao wrote on his microblog. "Far from the urban treadmill and noise, I have only several grebes around me, a few drops of wine and starlight."

There are easier ways to shoot films about environmental protection, but Qiao is cautious, meticulous and humane.

"Respect is most important. I would rather shooting nothing than disrupt the ecological system and animals' life. In fact, I am not a director - the animals are. They are the most outstanding directors in the world and I listen to them."

When he applied to the Beijing Film Academy, his parents could not understand why he would choose a life that was unstable and financially insecure. The cinema in his hometown had been torn down, and they could not imagine his future.

Qiao sees beauty disappearing, and feels sad. "So I resort to the lens and use light and shadow to protect the environment," he says.

He remembers growing up with apricot-colored flowers in spring, intense greenery in summer, persimmons in autumn and snowy landscapes in winter. He bathed in the rivers and caught fish with his friends. It seemed like "paradise."

"One day, I found the sky was turning gray, and the water was turning yellow, and the shrimp and fish in rivers disappeared. Because of that, I wanted to record nature and make people realize how fragile the ecological system is," he says.

Eventually, his parents relented.

Today, Qiao spends two-thirds of the year with animals and the rest with his parents and friends.

Over the years he has captured scenes of endangered species such as snow leopards, Przewalski's gazelle and cowfish.

Shortly after selling all his assets to start filming, Qiao soon was spending it fast on camera equipment, film and rented vehicles.

"I don't know when the birds will fly into the scene, and where they will fly, so I can only aim the camera and try my luck," he says.

One roll of film costs more than 1,500 yuan (US$243) and only runs for around four minutes. He went through 100 rolls after 10-plus days. He has no off-the-road vehicle and renting one costs several hundred yuan a day.

Praise but no money

Qiao got verbal support from some enterprises and charitable organizations - but no financial support. It is hard to find sponsors for noncommercial films, especially those that criticize developers and industrialists.

For "Lost," he had appealed to more than 10 investors, including a coal mine owner who was hoping to get close to a pretty young starlet.

No one gave him financial support.Most of Qiao's classmates from the Beijing Film Academy are working at film companies and have stable careers earning good money. Some have made feature films, some have studied in the United States, and some are actors and scriptwriters of note.

At first Qiao considered making literary films but decided before graduation that he wanted to shoot a real wildlife film.

Life is satisfying.

"I feel happy in spirit," Qiao says. "When a swan spreads its wings, I feel content. I feel inner peace in the wild."

Once Qiao was shooting near the Yellow River at night when a sluice gate was opened to flush away silt. A torrent of water flowed into tidal areas and he saw a detached nest of squabs floating in the water. A chick had just hatched. Qiao and his assistant ran more than 100 meters, carrying heavy packs, to get near the seemingly doomed nest. They waded in, holding their cameras above their heads.

They saved the nest and chicks.

"It is more important to save animals than shoot films," Qiao says.

Once Qiao saved six wild duck chicks from vendors, but they didn't survive. He watched tearfully as the last duck die, its eyes wide open.

In April 2010, Qiao saw a gray crane on the ground at a time when the migratory birds were supposed to fly north. When he took a closer look, he saw a crane with a fractured leg was also on the ground. The first was keeping its company.

"The scene touched my heart," Qiao says.

Wildlife filming can be dangerous as well as inspiring. Once he dodged a wolf that was pursuing a Przewalski's gazelle, but started to take a detour for dinner when he saw Qiao. One time, he managed to elude a water snake but lost his camera in the river. He once climbed to a cliff pinnacle to photograph a heron, but then he couldn't find footholds for the way down and had to use a rope, securing it to outcroppings and then lowering himself bit by bit.

He is now recruiting online for wildlife lovers and conservationists to go on shoots five to 10 times a year, but so far, no one has responded.

He wants to make a 90-minute feature film, but he will need major sponsors and a strong team.

"My dream is to continue walking this path," he says, "despite all hardship and challenge."