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

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland in question, 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 forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered 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 seen as land for construction, not conservation areas to conserve.

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

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

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. 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 tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores 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 keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits 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. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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