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The conservationist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to breed and eat.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

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

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I took this path," 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 associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of 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 challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths 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 catch hundreds 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 often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime 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 originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed 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 adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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

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

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan 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 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 claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his