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The conservationist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

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

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

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 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 worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons 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. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

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

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated 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 arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his