Tracking Poachers That Illegally Capture China's Endangered Songbirds.
The conservationist's vision darts across miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.
He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.
And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.
Caught
Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.
They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.
The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.
The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can almost miss them.
The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.
It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.
Hunting the Hunters
This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.
"Initially, no-one cared," he says.
So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.
"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat 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 discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."
Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.
The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.
"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.
It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.
"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. 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 demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, 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 economic situation.
So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.
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 netting setups which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.
"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."
Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.
Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.
It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. 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.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."
Disrupted
On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.
Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.
The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.
Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.
Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.
But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his