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The activist's gaze sweeps over miles of tall grassland, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 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 where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered 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 areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

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

"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 held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," 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 found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths worn away 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 lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh 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 imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals 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 raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, 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. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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