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The conservationist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Tracking the Trappers

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

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

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," 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 distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not protected zones to preserve.

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

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the paths created 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 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 fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

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

Disrupted

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

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

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 in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his