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The activist's gaze sweeps across miles of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, 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, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

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

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to work in conservation 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 fought back.

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

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city 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 people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered 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 said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his