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

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to breed and eat.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

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

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

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. 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 patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky 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 commit completely. 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 developed new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom 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."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting 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 gathered with bird cages – some had multiple 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 recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his