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The activist's vision darts across vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

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

Snared

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

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 decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

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

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices 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 lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people 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 solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

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 adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate 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 so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have 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

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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