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The activist's vision darts across miles of open meadows, hunting for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

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

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to warmer places to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

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

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," 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 gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," 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 donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the trails 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 netting setups 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 deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous 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 practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

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

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

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group 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 questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his