🔗 Share this article

The activist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered 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 struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," 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 distinct era for the city.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," 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 gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – 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 created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

It's a tradition 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 understand that so many more 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 habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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 valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing 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 in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his