Tracking Illegal Hunters That Illegally Capture the Nation's Rare Songbirds.
The conservationist's vision darts across miles of dense fields, hunting for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.
He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.
Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.
Snared
In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south 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 icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to find food and shelter.
The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.
This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can almost miss them.
A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, 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 "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.
Tracking the Trappers
The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.
"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.
So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.
"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat 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 wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in 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 sanctuaries to conserve.
The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.
"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.
It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.
"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.
He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands 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 treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."
He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.
So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.
He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths 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 lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.
"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."
While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits 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 imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.
This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.
"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. 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 no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."
Busted
Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.
A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.
The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.
We were told that protected birds could be bought 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 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 covered in black fabric.
But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his