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The activist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

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

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to warmer places to breed and eat.

There are over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for 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 believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

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

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting 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 congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. 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