🔗 Share this article

The conservationist's gaze sweeps over miles of dense fields, searching for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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 environment.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered 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 expansion meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection 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 being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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 found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the paths worn away 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 lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity 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 tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river extends over 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 bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three 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 taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his