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The conservationist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to find food and shelter.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading 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 known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores 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."

Although 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.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation 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. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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