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The conservationist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

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 utilized the long summer days in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to breed and eat.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

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

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered 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 army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for 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 penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits 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. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for 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 were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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