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

The activist's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

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

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not conservation areas to preserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

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

"He assembled 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 seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes 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.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command 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 environmental regulations in place, Silva believes 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 mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan 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 on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his