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The activist's gaze sweeps over miles of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to breed and eat.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

This particular field in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 thin you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

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

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

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

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went 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 covert operations and lost sleep. 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 address this major issue, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

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

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed 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 habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly 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 sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing 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 dark cloth.

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