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The activist's eyes scan across miles of open meadows, looking for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. 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.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible 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 few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails 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 satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"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 penalties to punish the crime 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 Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise 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 often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

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

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

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by 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 said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his