On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Songbirds.
The conservationist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.
He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.
Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.
Snared
In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.
They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.
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. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.
The patch of grassland in question, 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 forests of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can barely see them.
A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.
This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.
Pursuing the Poachers
Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.
"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.
So he gathered a team who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.
"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.
This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.
He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."
China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.
The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, 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 easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.
"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.
He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"I do this full-time," 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 donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.
So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.
He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.
"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."
Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.
Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.
This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.
"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 no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."
Busted
Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.
Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.
The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.
We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. 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. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.
But today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his