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The conservationist's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

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, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, 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" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on 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 solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

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

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

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation 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. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, 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. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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