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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He utters less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. 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 haven 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 "barely visible nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

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

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery 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 capture 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 quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local 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 small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop 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 covered in black fabric.

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