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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. 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 refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options 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 held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

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

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers 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 expansion meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, 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 easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission 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 – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple 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 questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his