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The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

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

Caught

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were 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 very different Beijing.

He remembers exploring the grasslands 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 expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not conservation areas to conserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

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

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. 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 economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes 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 dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate 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 so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions 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