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The conservationist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

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

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became 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 nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," 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 pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He studies 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 hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed 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 inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual stands outside a local 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 traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought 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 dark cloth.

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