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The activist's eyes scan across vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," 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 assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported 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 few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies 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 rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity 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 imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a local 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 old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over 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 purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

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 concealed by black fabric.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his