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The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

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

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to breed and eat.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

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

"In the early days, no-one cared," he states.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

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

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

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

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies 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 stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly 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 area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group 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 on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his