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The activist's eyes scan across vast expanses of open meadows, looking for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard 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" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, 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 enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

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

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered 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 conserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. One of 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 lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for 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 hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime 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 status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die 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 inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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 about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing 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 sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his