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The conservationist's eyes scan across vast expanses of open meadows, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, 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 ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Across the heavens, 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 warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – 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 outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, no-one cared," he states.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people 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 tackle this challenge, 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 support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos 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 aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers 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 deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view 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 typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his