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The activist's vision darts over miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow converge 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 scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard 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 "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," 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 retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes 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 at night.

"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 punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in 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 small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

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

But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his