The conservationist's gaze sweeps over miles of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.
He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.
Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.
Snared
Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.
They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to find food and shelter.
China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.
The patch of grassland where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.
It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.
The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.
This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.
Pursuing the Poachers
Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.
"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.
So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. 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 enforcement is still patchy.
His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.
He remembers 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 millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.
This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.
"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 discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.
"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators 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 prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.
"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."
He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.
So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.
He analyzes satellite imagery 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 netting setups which can capture hundreds 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 quite wealthy."
While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime 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 originates from the imperial era. 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 may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."
Apprehended
On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.
A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.
This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.
The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.
Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.
Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.
But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his
