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The conservationist's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can barely see them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," 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 recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators 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 challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds 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 keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits 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 to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse 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 people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his