Tracking Poachers Who Illegally Snare China's Endangered Songbirds.
The conservationist's eyes scan over miles of open meadows, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.
He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.
And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.
Caught
Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.
They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to find food and shelter.
There are more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.
The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can barely see them.
A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.
It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.
Pursuing the Poachers
This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.
"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he states.
So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.
"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.
His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.
He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."
Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.
The transformation was alarming. 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 being investigated by Silva and retaliated.
"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.
He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 give it your all. 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 slowing economy.
So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.
He studies satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.
"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."
Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.
Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.
This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens 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.
"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. 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 raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."
Apprehended
On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.
A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly 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 stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.
Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.
Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.
But today there would be no transactions 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