On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Singing Birds.
The conservationist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.
He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.
And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.
Trapped
Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.
They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.
The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.
The area of meadow being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.
The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.
This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.
Tracking the Trappers
Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.
"In the early days, there was little interest," he states.
So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.
"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.
Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.
He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."
Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.
The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.
"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.
It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.
"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.
He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.
"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.
So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.
He studies satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.
"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."
Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.
Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.
It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.
"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."
Disrupted
On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.
Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.
The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.
Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.
Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.
But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his