On the Trail Poachers Who Illegally Snare the Nation's Protected Singing Birds.

The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

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

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to breed and eat.

There are over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard 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 "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, no-one cared," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection 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 under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went 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 requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders 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.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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