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The conservationist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down 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, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

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

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls roaming through 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 a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas to conserve.

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

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, 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 slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines 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 mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, 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 growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

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

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

The path 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 wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by 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 today there would be no transactions 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