On the Trail Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture China's Protected Songbirds.

The conservationist's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

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

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

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

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

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes worn away 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 scores 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 often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition 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 so many more birds were killed 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 keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

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

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his