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The activist's eyes scan over miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he gathered a team who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. 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 the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

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

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

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," 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 donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. 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 so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional 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 interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his