Following Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture China's Endangered Songbirds.
The conservationist's eyes scan across vast expanses of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.
He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.
And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.
Snared
In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.
They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.
China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.
The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.
The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.
It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.
Tracking the Trappers
Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.
"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.
So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.
"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.
This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.
He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."
Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.
The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.
"I decided back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.
It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.
"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.
He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.
So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.
He studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these 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 hundreds of small birds at night.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."
Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling 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.
It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."
Disrupted
On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.
Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.
The area 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. The location was not concealed.
Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.
But today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his