🔗 Share this article

The conservationist's eyes scan across vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

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 rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds 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 performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, 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 sales because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his