🔗 Share this article

The activist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out 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 brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons 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 generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, 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 typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his