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The activist's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent 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 outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He recalls exploring 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 millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators 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 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 commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths 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 satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores 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 argues 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 generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. 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 ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

We were told that protected birds 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 troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional 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 today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his