On the Trail Poachers Who Illegally Snare the Nation's Endangered Singing Birds.
The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, looking for any movement in the early morning gloom.
He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.
Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.
Caught
Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.
They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.
China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.
The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.
A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird 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 "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its environment.
Pursuing the Poachers
This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.
"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.
So he gathered a team who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.
"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.
Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.
He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."
Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.
The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.
"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.
This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.
"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.
He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.
So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.
He examines aerial photos 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 netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.
"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."
While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling 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 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 grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."
Busted
Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.
A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.
The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.
Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.
Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered 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 arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his