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The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by 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 small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales 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