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

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh 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 imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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 group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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