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

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

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 chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. 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 patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission 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 funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

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

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his