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The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

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

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection 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 assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

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

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 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 examines aerial photos to find the routes worn away 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 netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes 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 people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

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

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby 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 on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his