On the Trail Poachers That Illegally Capture China's Rare Singing Birds.
The activist's eyes scan over miles of dense fields, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.
He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.
And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.
Snared
In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.
They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.
There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.
The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can almost miss them.
A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.
This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.
Pursuing the Poachers
Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.
"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.
So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.
"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.
This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.
He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."
Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.
The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.
"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.
It has not been an easy life. A major 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 went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.
He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.
So he has found new ways to track the poachers.
He studies aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."
While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.
Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.
It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.
"This generation 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 little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."
Busted
Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader 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 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 path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.
Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.
Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his