🔗 Share this article

The activist's eyes scan over miles of dense fields, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying 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 began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation 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 remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails 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 netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

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 gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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