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The conservationist's gaze sweeps over miles of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to breed and eat.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 "fine nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, 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, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in 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 discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

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

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

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes created 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 lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his