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The activist's vision darts over miles of dense fields, looking for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates 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 team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. 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