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

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," 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 assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported 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 demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for 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 solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the routes 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 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 keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues 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 dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have 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 raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages 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 rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds 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 fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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