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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

He recalls wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"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 brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission 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 a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails worn away 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 netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

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

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity 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 vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested 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 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 covered in black fabric.

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