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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of dense fields, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Across the heavens, 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 taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, 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 population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

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

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of 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 assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost 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.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those 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 scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

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

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate 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 numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for 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 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 gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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