Following Poachers Who Illegally Snare China's Protected Wild Birds.

The conservationist's eyes scan across miles of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. 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 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 thin you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird 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 "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"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 under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

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

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. 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 older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice 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 small cages with chirping songbirds.

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 rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop 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 covered in black fabric.

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