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The activist's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, 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 also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

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

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."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not conservation areas to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went 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 stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch 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."

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

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

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing 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 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