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

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, 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 environment.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"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 brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

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

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

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan 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 arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his