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The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

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

Caught

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, there was little interest," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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 rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, 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 a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos 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 lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

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

We were told that protected birds could be purchased 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 performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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