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The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts 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 paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the outskirts 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 thin you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice 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 being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

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 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 solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths worn away 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 netting setups which can catch scores 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 keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues 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 people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river 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 nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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