The activist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.
He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.
And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.
Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.
They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.
China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow cross through China.
The patch of grassland where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.
It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can almost miss them.
A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.
This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.
This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.
"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he says.
So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.
"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.
This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.
He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."
China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.
The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.
"I decided back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.
It has not been an easy life. A major 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 beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported 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 stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.
"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. 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 developed new ways to track the poachers.
He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture 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."
Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.
Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.
This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.
"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."
On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.
A separate individual is positioned near a nearby 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 established a niche trade.
The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.
We were told that protected birds could be bought 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 traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.
But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his
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