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The conservationist's vision darts across vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

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

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, 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" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," 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 argues the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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