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The activist's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, hunting for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

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

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – more than 800 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 edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

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 relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

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

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

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

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported 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 patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities 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 outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by 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 transactions because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his