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The activist's vision darts across miles of dense fields, hunting for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

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

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted 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 team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for 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 commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found 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 aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture 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 own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits 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 Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought 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 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 appeared. 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