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The activist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to breed and eat.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. 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 protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

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

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. 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 tackle this challenge, 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 donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those 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 during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," 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 argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader 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 about 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But today 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