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

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

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

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I chose this direction," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

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

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. 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 slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

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

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime 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 originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his