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The conservationist's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to warmer places to nest and feed.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 "fine nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length 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 claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found 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 expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.

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

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded 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 team of helpers 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 made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has adopted 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 stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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