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The conservationist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice 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 our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he states.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails worn away 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 capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals 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 caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby 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 old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three 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 taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his