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The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated 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 held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the paths created 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 netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. 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 some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing 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.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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