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The conservationist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south 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 initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies 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 release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group called 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 discovered that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

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

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. 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 demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds 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 quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. 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 ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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 troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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