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The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes 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, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

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

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work 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 urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," 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 funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery 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 satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

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

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

It's a tradition that continues 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 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 a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local 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 is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested 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 group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his