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The conservationist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, 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 long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

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

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized 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 apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," 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 demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

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

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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 covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, 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 by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. 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. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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