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The conservationist's vision darts across vast expanses of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Caught

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

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

Silva's love of 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 encountered 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 considered areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

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

It has not been an easy life. One of 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 remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many 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 address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the trails 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 lines of net traps which can capture 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 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 potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a nearby 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 old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased 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 choreographing a fan dance. Nearby 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 today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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