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The activist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, 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 warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

This particular field in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"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 held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

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

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an easy life. 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 assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on 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 address this major issue, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation 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. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. 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