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The activist's gaze sweeps over miles of tall grassland, looking for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and supported 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 protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and launched 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 persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting 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 remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

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 difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

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 aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

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

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed 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 for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens 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 growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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