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

The conservationist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to breed and eat.

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

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – 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 given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

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

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I chose this direction," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered 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 reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. 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 solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers 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 aerial photos to find the trails 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 sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh 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 to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

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 multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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