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The conservationist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of open meadows, looking for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow where we were, 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 clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can barely see them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, no-one cared," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

This has not made for 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 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 demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues 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 mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals 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 for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes 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.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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