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The activist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls 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 seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice 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 found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people 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 address this major issue, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons 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 people 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 persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. 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 raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But today there would be no sales 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