On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Songbirds.
The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.
He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.
And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.
Snared
Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.
They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to warmer places to nest and feed.
The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.
The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can barely see them.
A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.
This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.
Pursuing the Poachers
This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.
"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he states.
So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.
"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.
This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.
He recalls wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."
Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.
The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.
"I decided back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.
It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.
"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.
He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.
"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."
He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.
So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.
He studies aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images 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 big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."
While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.
Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.
It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."
Disrupted
On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.
A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.
The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.
Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.
Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.
But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his