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The conservationist's vision darts across miles of dense fields, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically 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 "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

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

This has not made for an simple journey. 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 the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for 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 commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

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

"Certain prized species command 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 believes the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby 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 today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his