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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

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

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his associates 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 lost 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.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths created 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 netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," 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 trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

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

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

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 multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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