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The activist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

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

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die 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 inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. 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 tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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