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

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% 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 where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his associates 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 army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He maps those 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 premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime 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 mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path by the river 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 wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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