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The conservationist's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Trapped

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"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 community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

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

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos 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 aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice 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 formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, 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 troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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