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The activist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, 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 long summer days in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images 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 environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits 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. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display 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 numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

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

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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