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The activist's vision darts over miles of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

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

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

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

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths worn away 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 hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for 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 wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds 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. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his