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The conservationist's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch 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 "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth 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.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires 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 address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images 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 keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed 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 originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand 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 often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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