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The activist's eyes scan across miles of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Snared

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone 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.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"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. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," 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 army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines 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 lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall 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 tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

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 choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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