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The activist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

This particular field in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 "fine nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

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

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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 millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for 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 associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many 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 commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch 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 own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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