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The conservationist's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, looking for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates 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 flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

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

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an easy life. A major 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 beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost 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.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. 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 developed new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers 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 catching and selling songbirds.

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

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people 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.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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

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

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 in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. 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