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The conservationist's gaze sweeps across miles of tall grassland, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to warmer places to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, 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 population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. 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.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life began during 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 found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny 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 brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"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 environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy 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. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

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

We were told 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 fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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