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The conservationist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on 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, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, 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 easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out 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 reported 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 demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for 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 commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned 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 charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition 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 understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

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

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

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his