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The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, 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 population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became 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 recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

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

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

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. 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 few people 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 tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. 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 examines satellite imagery to find the trails 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 lines of net traps which can catch 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 own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

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

"These individuals often lacked 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 little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders 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 old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area 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 on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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