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The activist's gaze sweeps over miles of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

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 heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

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

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures 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 quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three 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 taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his