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The activist's gaze sweeps across miles of tall grassland, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland in question, 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 forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This 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 environment.

Tracking the Trappers

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

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," 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 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 routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those 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 capture hundreds of small birds at night.

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

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime 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 mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought 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 fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, 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 recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his