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

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 "barely visible nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded 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 army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths 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 netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a premium," 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 believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand 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 growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional 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 transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his