Tracking Poachers That Illegally Capture the Nation's Rare Songbirds.

The conservationist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

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 migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges 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 equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those 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 scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by 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 stretches for 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 purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area 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 concealed by dark cloth.

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