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The conservationist's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts 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 intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into 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 escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

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 decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. 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 demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many 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 give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime 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 originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, 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 in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his