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The conservationist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Caught

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

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

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

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not protected zones to preserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," 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 assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals 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 educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This is a glimpse 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 sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no sales 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