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The activist's eyes scan over miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found 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 grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

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

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," 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 covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for 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 grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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