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The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten 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 cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to nest and feed.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. 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 easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many 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 address this major issue, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. 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 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 a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local 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 is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, 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 arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his