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The conservationist's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, looking for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

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

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

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

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

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

This has not made for 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 surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," 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 covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery 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 satellite images 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 reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits 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 Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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 troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan 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 concealed by black fabric.

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