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

He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined 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 somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators 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 few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths worn away 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.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities 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 deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased 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 fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his