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The conservationist's eyes scan over miles of dense fields, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

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

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on 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 says.

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people 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 tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos 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 satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity 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 dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his