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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, 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 also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," 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 penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations 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 some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions 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