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

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

His passion for avian life 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."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"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 found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices 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 seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. 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 hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites 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 understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery 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 under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing 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 on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his