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The activist's vision darts over miles of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the huge urban center 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. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, 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 ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," 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 recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I took this path," 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 gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes 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 people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men 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 had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked 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 ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river 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 bought in a small park. 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. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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