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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of dense fields, 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 grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Caught

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, no-one cared," he states.

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

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

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

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

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos 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 capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While 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 generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. 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 created their own market.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan 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 dark cloth.

But on this occasion 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