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The conservationist's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of 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 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 requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for 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 reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits 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 Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, 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 arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his