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The activist's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

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

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

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails worn away 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 big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition 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 understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view 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 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 in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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