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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge 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 "barely visible nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. 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. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers 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 made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes 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 at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity 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 mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path 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 purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his