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The conservationist's eyes scan across vast expanses of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Across the heavens, billions of 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 warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying 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" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He recalls wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"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 discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views 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 keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water 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 nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional 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 transactions 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