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The conservationist's vision darts over miles of dense fields, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

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 aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"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 often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh 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 originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted 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 formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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

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

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing 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 transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his