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The conservationist's gaze sweeps across miles of tall grassland, looking for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

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

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to breed and eat.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow cross through 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 equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, 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 habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas 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 followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, 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 donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines 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 lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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