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The activist's eyes scan over miles of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of 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 long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes 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 netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command 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 environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested 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 choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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