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The activist's vision darts across vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Overhead, countless migratory 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 long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He recalls wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. 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 not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths created 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 high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path by the river 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 small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. 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