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The conservationist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized 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 journey to warmer places to nest and feed.

There are 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he states.

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," 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 gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

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

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats 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 wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate 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 committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked 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 little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a nearby 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 is a glimpse 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 shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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