On the Trail Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping China's Rare Songbirds.

The activist's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging 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 Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the routes created 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 catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for 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 so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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 covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly 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 path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group 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 today there would be no sales 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