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The conservationist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, hunting for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," 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 demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos 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 scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh 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 originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for 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 practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

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

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan 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 recording details. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his