🔗 Share this article

The conservationist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties 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, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. 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 give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

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

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional 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 sales because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his