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The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting 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. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

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

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland 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 clusters of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," 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 fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

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

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"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 quite wealthy."

Although 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 generations in China, still is – a status symbol. 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 older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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.

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 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 concealed by black fabric.

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