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The conservationist's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough 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, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to warmer places to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options 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 one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group known as 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 realized that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

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

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

This shift shocked him. 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. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went 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 not many 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 commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for 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 hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos 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 satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds 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 people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate 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 were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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 covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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