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The activist's eyes scan over miles of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, on the edges 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 also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found 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 land for construction, not conservation areas to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, 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 slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these 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 scores of small birds at night.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people 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.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice 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 set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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