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The conservationist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a 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 nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to breed and eat.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, 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 clusters of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"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 community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered 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 reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. 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 address this major issue, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images 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 wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity 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 status symbol. 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 older Chinese people 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.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly 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 path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. 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