On the Trail Poachers That Illegally Capture the Nation's Protected Songbirds.
The activist's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.
He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.
And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.
Snared
In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.
They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.
There are over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.
This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can barely see them.
The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.
It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.
Pursuing the Poachers
This activist, carries out this mission 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 take this crime seriously.
"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he states.
So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.
"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.
This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.
He recalls 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.
This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.
"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.
It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.
"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," 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 patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.
"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.
So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.
He examines satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."
Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.
Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.
This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."
Disrupted
On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.
A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.
The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.
Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.
Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional 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 on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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