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

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

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 taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters 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 extending over half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, 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 numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He assembled 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 team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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 traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. 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