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The activist's eyes scan across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among forests 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 strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on 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, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for 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 can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

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

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from 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 some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity 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 trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by 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