Tracking Illegal Hunters Who Illegally Snare China's Endangered Singing Birds.
The activist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.
He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.
Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.
Caught
Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.
They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to breed and eat.
The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.
The patch of grassland in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.
The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.
It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.
Hunting the Hunters
This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. 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 remarks.
So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. 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, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.
This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.
He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."
China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.
The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.
"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.
This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.
"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.
He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.
So he has adopted 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 stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."
Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh 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 dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.
This custom that continues 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 growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."
Busted
On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor 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 valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.
The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.
We were told that wild songbirds 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 troop of elderly ladies were choreographing 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 covered in 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 said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his