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The activist's eyes scan across vast expanses of open meadows, looking for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes 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 rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species 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 wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed 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 imperial era. Wealthy individuals 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 older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. 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 little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his