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The conservationist's eyes scan across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, there was little interest," he states.

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

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

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

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

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible 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 prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

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

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

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," 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 reckons 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 generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders 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 vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, 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 arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his