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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests 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 strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird 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 "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, 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. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers 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.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails 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 netting setups which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water 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 purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his