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The activist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, hunting for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south 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 chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to free his legs, 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 environment.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s 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. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers 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 hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails 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 lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities 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 punish the crime 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 status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," 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 extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by 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 claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his