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The activist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established 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 advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded 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 team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. 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 some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals 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 no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders 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 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 group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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