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The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Snared

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, 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, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

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

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity 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 status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise 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 often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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