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The activist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies 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 bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

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 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

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

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. 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 surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires 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 address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the trails 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 capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons 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 people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. 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 older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

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

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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