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The activist's eyes scan across vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

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

They have benefited from the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can barely see them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He remembers 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice 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 discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers 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 studies aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits 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. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals 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.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby 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 is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby 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 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